


Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

by Roscommon



Category: Stephanie Plum - Janet Evanovich
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 88,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27386899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roscommon/pseuds/Roscommon
Summary: A little holiday tale set in the winter after Twelve Sharp. Stephanie’s trip to a friend’s wedding turns into an extended holiday away from the responsibilities of home. What happens if Ranger turns out to be there, too?  (Cross posted on fanfiction dot net.)
Relationships: Ricardo Carlos Manoso/Stephanie Plum
Comments: 14
Kudos: 18





	1. Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> The Stephanie Plum characters are not mine and I make no profit, though this story is mine. Brands and trademarks belong to their acknowledged owners. This story is purely for entertainment, so please be patient with mistakes. These disclaimers apply to this story and each chapter in it.

* * *

**Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas**

There it was again: that tingle playing along the back of her neck. The same as she’d felt last night, sitting at this same table and having cocktails after work. Well, having mimosas with her new friends Ted, Morgan, and Laurie after they’d gotten off of work and joined her at the end of another high-powered day of tanning. 

Stephanie carefully picked up her drink selection for this evening, a mojito, only sloshing a tiny bit over the edge of the glass while she considered that, every day, it was easier to get used to the underemployed lifestyle here in Key Biscayne. It was hands-down better than her underemployed lifestyle in Trenton. She’d forgotten what it was like to just sit back, relax, and feel good about life. Without worrying about where the next dollar was coming from, which lowlife Vinnie would need her to wrestle over to Trenton PD for the bounty, or what the heck she was going to do about her morass of a lovelife. 

Something to think about. 

She took a sip. Well, maybe it was more like a swig. But really, why would anyone take little church-lady sips when they had the opportunity to celebrate the evening with a glass of minty lime-and-rum goodness mixed by people who clearly were geniuses of bartending? And it was a fine evening to celebrate, she affirmed with a circular swish of her glass. The sun had already set over the palms behind them in a rosy palette of colors, leaving the beach veranda lit by gas powered torches that lent a festive though vague heat to the almost brisk air. 

And here she was, settling into another evening of appetizers-as-dinner at a bar perched along the beach, listening to upbeat, pop versions of Christmas songs. At the moment a honeyed, female voice was charming the half-empty veranda into the holiday spirit with a languid country version of _Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas._ Just moments before the speakers along the veranda’s awning had been playing a classic version of _Silver Bells._

It was just so weird, she mused, to be sitting amidst palm trees, with no snow, when it was less than a week before Christmas. No bulky parkas or boots. No reminders that her current car had bald tires and no heat. 

It was weird but actually really, really nice. 

Tonight there were fewer people around; it was just Stephanie and her new friend Ted with a handful of other evening beach-watchers scattered at other tables on the restaurant’s veranda. The population of Key Biscayne was like the tide, she realized. These weeks in the lull between Thanksgiving and Christmas had been the foamy residue of low tide, with empty beaches dotted with occasional umbrellas and quiet restaurants in a picture-postcard landscape. 

Already, though, another outsized wave of tourists had started to roll back onto the shore, where they’d fill the beaches with crowds and the restaurants with boisterous out-of-town accents. And all of Stephanie’s new friends would get even busier at work. 

Stephanie was glad she’d had the opportunity over the last couple of weeks to have her own low tide moment, before she had to roll, crashing back into snowy Trenton with all her baggage. Physical and otherwise. And with her own, personal lack of work or income. She pursed her lips in thought. From what Connie had said on the phone last week, the bail business was as quiet as the back room in a mortuary. Well, a normal mortuary; not one in the ’Burg. 

In any case, as Connie described it, the weather had gotten so cold in Trenton, with so much snow piled up, that people were staying inside and having dancing, sugarplum dreams of crime, rather than venturing out into the slush to actually commit it. Scofflaws out on bail were turning themselves in early so they could have a nice bunk and three squares out of the freezing cold, courtesy of the New Jersey correctional system. 

At that moment, as though summoned by her thoughts of the cold Trenton weather, _Winter Wonderland_ started playing over the veranda speakers. Stephanie couldn’t help rolling her eyes. _Sleigh bells ring, snow is glistening, what a beautiful sight, frolicking and playing the Eskimo way_ … maybe her psychic network needed to change the channel. Were there any Christmas songs about getting away to someplace with palm trees and mojitos? If there weren’t, that was something the world really needed. 

A puff of breeze flipped the edges of a set of nautical-looking flags along the eaves of the more upscale restaurant next to them and tickled, unexpectedly cool, along Stephanie’s slightly sunburned skin. She pulled her sweater a bit tighter, with a momentary silent prayer of thanks that Nordstrom Rack was just a bus ride away because she certainly hadn’t planned for a string of almost chilly nights while in Florida. 

She probably should have researched the weather a bit more before boarding the plane from New Jersey. But then, she really had only packed for her college roommate Ellie’s wedding in Key Biscayne, followed by an extended weekend in the sun. How could she have known that she was heading out of Trenton just before a once-in-a-century set of snowstorms in the Northeast that would close airports and bounce airline reservations like children’s toys for weeks? 

“Did you want to go indoors?” Ted leaned toward her as he started to shrug off his own sweater. “It’s warmer in there.” 

“No, this is fine,” she smiled, gesturing for him to keep his sweater. “After all,” she continued, “if I were home in Trenton at this moment, I'd be shivering in the snow, waiting for the next blizzard.” At the thought, she pictured driving through the ice and snow to help her father shovel out their driveway, spending an evening taping plastic over all her windows to keep out the drafts, and visiting Dillon in the basement to reset her apartment fuse after tripping it with her vintage space heater. 

Brushing aside those images, she opened her arms and exclaimed, “Instead, here I am, living the dream. Evening temperatures in the mid sixties, beachside restaurants that serve mozzarella sticks _and_ shrimp in a basket,” she gestured at the plates of appetizers that littered the table, “and holiday songs with Christmas decorations that I didn’t have to hang.”

“And mojitos,” Ted chuckled as he signaled to the waitress at the bar. 

“Never forget the mojitos,” she nodded sagely. 

“Hey Christie,” Ted greeted the waitress with undeniable warmth, reaching out to hug the willowy, blonde woman in felt antlers. Her smile practically set the night alight as she greeted Ted in return. 

“Hey Teddy,” she answered with a brief glance at Stephanie. “And Teddy’s friend.” 

Stephanie stiffened briefly, but then exhaled into her own Miss America smile as Ted introduced her to Christie. 

And there it was: one of the other things she’d been figuring out since she’d been, here, away from home with unexpected time on her hands. At first, she’d been leary that Ted knew the waitresses by name, and they clearly all knew him. And were _very_ friendly. Honestly, it had felt a little too familiar, just like Joe’s suspiciously attentive female fan club. She’d almost written off Ted the first time they’d all gone out socially, for that very reason. 

But then she'd seen Laurie and Morgan, her other frequent evening companions, act the same way. At which point, after an afternoon spent in a beach-friendly thinking position, she’d figured out that her new friends all lived and worked together on this small peninsula in the Atlantic, south of Miami. Along with all the waitresses, bartenders, store clerks, street musicians, and dog walkers she met along the way. 

Stephanie chuckled inwardly, remembering the moment that she’d sat up suddenly with a shout, flinging sand into her satchel and probably giving a heart attack to the curious little beach crab that had been scuttling a few yards away, little pincer arms aquiver. “It’s just like the ’Burg,” she’d announced with a flourish to the mostly deserted beach. Well, really to the small family of seagulls that had lifted briefly into the air before resettling several yards away, wings twitching as though shaking off the insult of being compared to inhabitants of Trenton’s Chambersburg neighborhood. 

But really, Key Biscayne and the ’Burg were similarly insular. Maybe the Key was a bit larger, but it was more isolated geographically. And truly, everyone in the ’Burg knew each other. Just like her new friends knew everyone else in this small ornament of ocean-ringed land where the tides of their lives had swept them all. 

And, happily, none of them was Joyce Barnhardt or— she shuddered briefly— Grandma Bella Morelli. 

Somehow she'd never thought, before, about the fact that people grew up and lived in places that were tourist destinations. Or that maybe it was inevitable that people who lived in the same location would know each other, but maybe not be as in each other’s shorts as much as the busybodies in the ’Burg. Beyond that, she’d never wondered before whether crabs could have heart attacks. It had been a truly eye-opening moment. 

Noticing that Ted and Christie were still talking, Stephanie looked up and realized Ted was in the process of ordering more food. Her eyes narrowed briefly as he went ahead and ordered for both of them without asking. And, oh there was a Dickie flashback. Honestly, what in the paradise around her could possibly make her flash on moments with that waste of aftershave? 

Then Christy brought her back to the present by repeating the order. At which point Stephanie realized Ted had ordered everything that she'd enjoyed last night. Beyond that, Ted had also ordered another mojito for her. And yeah, maybe he actually had asked what she wanted and she’d been slow to respond. Stephanie shrugged; she could live with that. 

After all, she was still in the “getting to know you” phase with Ted. Really, it had only been a few weeks since she’d met Ted at her college roommate Ellie’s wedding. Almost wiry, with tousled hair bleached from the sun and eyes that her mom would describe as hazel, Ted was something new and different for her. He was _fun_ . He was _not_ from the ’Burg, or even New Jersey. He did _not_ work in law enforcement, or law whatsoever. 

In other words, Ted wasn’t like Dickie Orr, that dirt weasel. Which he’d just amply demonstrated by actually ordering what Stephanie _liked_. Instead of Dickie who had never figured that out.

Ted also wasn’t too much like Joe Morelli; after all, Ted had a good and probably platonic reason to be friendly with other women. Stephanie smoothed out the grimace she’d felt forming along her lips. The fact that Ted was not much like Joe was a good thing right about now. Because, she was finally able to admit to herself that being apart from Joe had been one of the most surprising perks of this extended, unexpected time away from Trenton. It was giving her time to see whether their most recent break-up was as real as it seemed.

So far, she had to answer _yes_. For too long she’d been blinded by Joe’s movie-star looks and bedroom eyes. Not to mention by the real-life fantasy of having hooked the most eligible bachelor in her community, right out from under women who’d been far more glamorous and popular like, oh, Terry Gilman. It had obscured the rather obvious fact that she and Joe just didn’t mesh. 

Well, not quite true. They meshed fairly spectacularly in bed. But apparently, unfortunately, and obviously that wasn’t enough. 

Stephanie reached across the table for one of the remaining fried mozzarella sticks while she pondered that line of thought. Actually, she and Joe had meshed well at first. Or, at least there had been sparks between them. Veritable fireworks at times. And fun. Lots of fun. 

So what if they’d fought with each other occasionally, even from the very beginning of their relationship? Frankly, that that had led to some of that spectacular “meshing” in the bedroom whose memories still made Stephanie’s toes curl. 

Since those days, though, Stephanie had to admit that too much had been pushing them apart. Her job, his family, her family, their shared history, and the fact that a lot of what they had in common was shared irritation. And well... she sighed as she absent-mindedly nibbled on her mozzarella. And well, when she was honest, it was inescapably obvious that one of the intractable things pushing her and Joe apart had been a five-foot-ten, unfairly drop-dead handsome and outstandingly muscular man of mystery called Ranger. 

She’d spent a lot of time thinking about the whole Joe situation over the past few weeks. Somehow it was easier to puzzle through her life while not being in the middle of it. Or maybe it was just having lots of time at the beach that made the whole _thinking_ thing work better. Whatever it was, focusing on her relationship with Joe from afar had made a few things clear. Including an important _Official Grownup Lesson_ (a phrase that she finger-quoted in her mind). That lesson was: it’s possible to be lonely even when you spend all your time with someone who supposedly wants to marry you. 

Not to mention that repeated break-ups were probably also not recommended in the pre-Cana marriage counselling handbook. Stephanie exhaled slowly, recalling another revelation from her recent beach retreat. That was: maybe she wouldn't have been so drawn to Ranger if being with Joe had been enough. After all, though Ranger was undoubtedly talented and handsome, he had always been clear that he wasn’t interested in a deeper relationship. 

Oh, he might help her, spend time with her, even share a bed with her upon occasion... but he always left. Ranger had never shown that he wanted her enough to get closer over the long haul, the way Joe had at least tried. At least, every other month when they weren’t in the midst of breaking up. 

“Stephie,” Ted broke into her thoughts using the name her former roommate, Ellie the recent bride, had always called her. Stephanie smiled; it was fun to be that carefree girl again, even if it was just because Ellie had introduced her as though they were college freshmen, again. It was like starting over. Like backing up time to a point before she got married and taking a new look at what her life could be.

“Stephie,” Ted repeated. “What do you think?” 

Stephanie looked up quickly, with sudden worry that she’d been reciting _The History of Stephanie’s Bad Relationships and New Self Discoveries_ out loud. Reassured by the simple curiosity she saw on Ted’s face, she grabbed her refilled mojito and started sipping while she tried to replay what Ted had been saying. 

He smiled boyishly, with a slight shrug. “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” 

“Maybe, uh... no?” Stephanie nibbled her lip.

“Don’t worry,” Ted reached out, with a soft squeeze to her hand. “Sorry about going on-and-on with Christie. She and I were next-door neighbors growing up, but it's been awhile since we’ve been together on the gossip train. It’s hard to believe that her Uncle Bert is still doing stuff like blowing things up in his backyard,” he started to laugh. “And then getting hit on the head by the falling mannequin? Totally priceless,” Ted snorted. 

Stephanie chuckled briefly along with Ted, easily imagining an incendiary backyard with improbable falling objects. At the same time, she felt her brow furrow in brief disorientation. Who would have imagined that there were stories of chaos and insane relatives that she didn’t already know? Back in the ’Burg, she’d be the one regaling everyone with tales of Uncle Peppy’s trash fires, or the time Great-Aunt Ethel invited over the Morrisville Cigar Club, where she was a charter member, to help throw her philandering husband’s piano out the second story window. 

She was used to being the one who knew all the connections, all the accumulated embarrassments in the ’Burg. For a moment, without shared history, she felt oddly empty. 

Was this feeling of being left behind how Ranger felt whenever she’d launched into one of her ’Burg sagas? Apparently it was helpful, though confusing, to know things like the fact that Marky Nuncio’s father-in-law used to breed minks in his basement, which explained his ex-wife’s attire in several porn videos.

But here, those stories were simply goofy family tales, not the seemingly important lore of her extended neighborhood. 

Stephanie mentally shook herself. She needed to stop thinking about Trenton. She needed to give herself the mental break that she’d promised herself this evening. 

She needed to give her attention to the nice, attractive man in front of her. Who very pointedly had simply nodded to Christie as the willowy, antlered waitress had dropped off their next round of appetizers-as-dinner, and then turned his attention immediately back to Stephanie. Ted really was something different for her. 

“So,” she flashed a brief grin as she reached for one of the shrimp on the plate nearest her. “What fabulously clever thing did you say that I maybe completely missed a couple minutes ago?” 

“They’re showing James Stewart in _It’s a Wonderful Life_ on the big screen at the Community Center in town on Sunday afternoon. What I said that was completely clever,” Ted’s eyes danced, “was that we could go see it together after I get off work. And get ice cream at the dairy down the block.” 

Stephanie felt her heart blush. This was so nice. If she wasn’t mistaken, a man was kinda, sorta asking her on a date. All that was missing was an offer to carry her schoolbooks for her. 

But, oh no. Sunday. She sighed, “Oh Ted, I’m sorry, I can’t.” Seeing the confusion in his eyes, she continued, “My rescheduled, rescheduled-again flight back to Trenton is this Wednesday. So I’m actually going to get there for Christmas, even though I’m arriving on the day itself.” She shrugged. “If I miss that, I’m probably hitchhiking my way up the coast for the holidays.”

His smile faded as he shrugged. “Oh yeah, I forgot.” Reaching out to her hand, again, he smiled. “Can’t blame a guy for trying, though, huh?”

She smiled kindly. “It’s nice of you to ask.” She gently freed her hand and reached for another shrimp. “You should go see the movie, anyway,” she said around a nibble. “Just because I’m a party pooper doesn’t mean you can’t have fun.” 

“But there won’t be anyone there to be impressed that I can recite lines along with the movie,” Ted’s boyish smile returned. “Actually, nobody who knows me will watch that movie with me, because I know all the Jimmy Stewart lines.” 

She chuckled, choosing not to tell him that her current favorite holiday movie was _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ . Or that that she probably also could recite all of Jimmy Stewart’s dialogue in _It’s a Wonderful Life_ , but mostly because it was father’s favorite holiday movie and she’d seen it probably a gazillion times. 

“Life is full of sacrifices,” she murmured around the last shrimp. 

“Speaking of sacrifice… you know, of course, that you’re leaving right when the big wave of Christmas tourists are arriving, along with the last of the snowbirds.”

“This is a sacrifice why?” Stephanie peered up at Ted as she maneuvered the last appetizer plate— spicy meatballs with little reindeer-flagged toothpicks— to the center of the table. 

“There’s the overtime potential, for one. My cousin Bart would definitely give you more shifts at the Grouper Inn if you were here.” Ted reached for one of the meatballs, no doubt realizing that it might be his last chance now that they were within Stephanie’s reach. “He’s really grateful that you agreed to pick up Ellie’s shifts while she’s on her honeymoon.”

Stephanie paused, a quick fantasy reel playing in her mind. Christmas in Florida, nice weather, making money, no accidental-on-purpose encounters with Joe Morelli leading to… wherever they led. But who was she kidding? Her family might be crazy, but this was the big holiday of the year. If she wasn’t there for Christmas, it just wouldn’t be right. 

Of course, she knew Grandma Mazur would understand. As she’d enthused during their most recent phone call, why shouldn’t Stephanie spend as much time in the sun as she could, surrounded by all those hotties. In fact, Stephanie had needed to discourage her grandmother from somehow flying down to join her. 

But the rest of her family… they would be baffled. Hurt to the core by a fundamental betrayal. 

Stephanie sighed. When all was said and done, she was a daughter of the ’Burg, and family stuck together and flew in for Christmas. Even if they’d rather join the scofflaws in New Jersey lockup for the few days of the actual holidays. And at that moment, the veranda speakers tapped into her psychic channel yet again, and _I’ll be Home for Christmas_ started playing. Stephanie valiantly fought the urge to faceplant. 

“Stephie,” Ted mercifully interrupted her thoughts yet again. “Have you given any more thought to coming back after the holidays and staying through the spring season? I know for a fact that Bart has a couple people leaving and would hire you at the Inn for the season if you want.” He looked down, fingers tracing through the condensation on his glass. “He’d probably hire you through the summer, too, if you wanted to stay.” Ted looked up at her through his lashes. 

She was suddenly reminded of Richie Cavallaro in third grade, when he’d offered her the first Gummy Bear from his lunch bag. It had been a gesture of such rare, courtly refinement in a year full of fart jokes that she'd found herself drifting into a dream-sequence future with Richie. In her mind’s eye, she and Richie were sharing ice cream sandwiches outside of Genesee Drugs, shopping together at Barker’s Toys and Crafts, being Mulder and Scully as they investigated the dried seaweed at Point Pleasant, maybe even getting married someday and buying a Buick LeSabre with the Grand Touring package. 

And it all might have actually happened if Richard Cavallaro Senior hadn’t been caught the following week for dipping into the Union pension fund. Shortly after that, Joey’s mom had moved the family out of state, and that was the last of Richie Junior and courtly Gummy Bears.

She smiled at Ted, the current heir of her Gummy Bear fantasies. It was nice to have someone enthused at having her around. 

"Or course I'm glad you're here Stephie," Ted said, clueing her into the fact that she must've spoken at least some of that last bit out loud. He reached out again, covering her hand as she felt herself blush. And there was that darned tingle on the back of her neck again. 

“We all are,” Ted emphasized after a pause. “Glad that you’re here, that is. It would be great if you were here for longer. You fit right in.” 

She exhaled. Starting over was starting to sound good. Having spent a few weeks condo-sitting for Ellie these past few weeks over her honeymoon had given Stephanie ample opportunity to rethink her apartment in Trenton. Cozy home or working class slum? She had done the inventory: crappy uninsulated windows, ancient appliances, always-full dumpster in the middle of the parking lot, one wall outlet per room. Yeah, she was leaning toward _slum,_

Further, her new friends’ seasonal lifestyle, with interludes spent at beachside bars and the spa, was making her lifestyle feel, well, less like independence and more like poverty. Maybe it was because their employment depended on people having fun, while hers depended on taking lowlifes to jail. Something to think about.

“Will you at least think about it?” Ted uncannily echoed her thoughts. “At least, let’s keep in touch over the holidays.” He reached into his jacket for his cellphone. “So it’s not just me doing a sales job on why you should come back after the holidays, you can tell me how your Christmas is going. Give me something fun to imagine while I’m on ten-hour-a-day concierge duty.” 

She exhaled in amusement. “Sure, though here’s a fair disclosure. Plum family Christmas is like all the National Lampoon holiday movies rolled into one big accident prone extravaganza. Hopefully Mom doesn’t forget the ham this year and burn it into Christmas jerky, Grandma doesn’t shoot anything with the gun in her purse, none of my cousins get arrested for indecent exposure, and Dad doesn’t spend the entire holiday in the garage.”

“You should juice up your phone to take movies at home. It sounds like you could make a fortune and become a media star.”

Stephanie laughed out loud. “Believe me, fame is not something I’m looking for. Especially disaster-related fame.” Stephanie inhaled, almost ready to confide that she was in the Trenton news often enough as the Bombshell Bounty Hunter. She was stopped by a return of that zing, like electric spiders along her neck, telling her to pay attention. 

This time it was stronger, as though she was being watched. She leaned back to see more of the veranda. Her spidey senses had rarely let her down, but she didn’t want to be too obvious. _Always be aware of your surroundings_ , the shadow of Ranger’s voice exhorted silently in her mind.

Their veranda had thinned out. Other than Ted and herself, there was one other table occupied by a group of variously-aged people who were probably a family. They evidently had a lot to talk about, Stephanie noted, though she could barely make out what they were saying. Apparently they were Jedi masters at the whole “using your indoor voice” technique that was pretty much an epic fail in New Jersey. It seemed to be something about bathroom remodeling, though, so Stephanie let her eyes flit over them without pause. 

As she continued scanning, the veranda music transitioned to _Feliz Navidad._ Stephanie couldn’t help but smile at a childhood memory of her Grandma Mazur breaking out what she claimed were Cha Cha moves to this song while baking sweet fruit _kolaches_ for Christmas. 

While she briefly pondered where her grandmother would have learned the Cha Cha while married to her staid Grandpa Mazur, Stephanie’s gaze drifted to the beach. A few people were walking along the horizon, their distant silhouettes revealed by the moon above. She didn’t see anyone obviously stopped or focused on this part of the dune above the beach. So she cast her gaze to the right, where a few parties seemed to be leaving the fancier restaurants a block or so away.

One older couple, a twin shadow backlit by a set of neon signs, was holding hands as they navigated the decking below their restaurant. The more feminine shadow was levering a cane in her free hand, the more masculine one had a bag, probably leftovers. 

Stephanie paused, her people-watching genes kicking in. She sighed; the couple just looked so comfortable together. For a moment, she imagined herself holding the cane, hand-in-hand with someone with whom she’d spent a lifetime. Someone who knew her well enough to ensure he firmly grabbed the leftovers bag to take home. She wondered if her parents had moments like that when not surrounded by the drudge of daily life— and by their adult daughters who seemed unable to truly leave home. She wondered if she, herself, would ever have such moments. 

Her scan of the area continued when a group of slim, feminine silhouettes passed in front of the older couple, sandals dangled from fingers as they headed on a separate path down to the beach. Obviously girlfriends gossiping about recent dates, jobs, and life in general. 

Another movement caught her eyes a bit further away. Heading up toward the road and the parking lot, she saw the outline of a man and woman walking together. The woman’s head tossed back and Stephanie thought she heard the distant melody of laughter. 

But that wasn’t what snared her attention. It was the man. His shape, his height, his gait. Her imagination could easily picture him as Ranger. Walking with a tall, slender woman. Enjoying the light breeze after dinner. Probably heading toward an expensive car, an exhilarating ride through the lush park that crowned Key Biscayne, and a late evening of getting to know each other better. 

Maybe _much_ better.

Unexpectedly, her dinner rang a heavy, yet hollow note in her stomach. It couldn’t be Ranger, could it? Probably she had been thinking so much about Trenton and her recent relationships. Or something in the shrimp sauce was making her hallucinate. That was probably it.

She watched as the couple turned away, now hidden by the corner of the far building. Drawing upon willpower she didn’t know she possessed, she stifled her urge to leave Ted and go follow the couple. After all, what would she do if she got there and it wasn’t Ranger? 

And what if it _was_ Ranger? 

She took a few deep breaths to slow her thoughts. Technically, it _could_ be Ranger. Shortly after recovering from being shot by Scrog, he’d stopped by her apartment before heading to Miami to spend time with his daughter Julie. Which made sense. After all, the poor girl had been kidnapped and had nearly seen her father die in front of her. 

When he’d shown up in her apartment, she’d thought it was a special gesture. But then, after telling her he’d be away in Miami for Julie, and maybe on business for a while, he’d handed her a black Rangeman polo shirt. It was still shrink-wrapped in plastic with a barcode sticker, like it was a gift from the tourist shop at Rangeman World. She’d tried to convince herself it was his version of bringing over birthday cake. Which would’ve been easier if he hadn’t immediately headed toward her door, saying she should call Tank if she needed work while he was away. And then, of course, the next day he was gone.

But that was a few months ago. She knew because she had still been trying to work things out with Joe at the time. Now, a few months later, Ranger was still “in the wind” and she’d gotten used to him being gone. 

_One Ranger is all you’ll ever need_ , she thought wistfully. Though that, of course, meant there needed to be at least one of them.

"Hey Stephie," Ted waved his hand in front of her face. Oops, apparently her scan of the bar and beachfront wasn't as casual as she'd imagined. 

She returned her attention back to Ted, smiling as she picked up her drink once more. And how had she managed to practically finish yet another mojito without noticing? As Ted continued with reasons why Stephanie should return to Key Biscayne after the holidays, she listened, replied, and enjoyed the attention. 

Feeling a bit traitorous, she reflected that Ted wasn’t very much like Ranger. She nibbled the side of her lip. To be fair, Stephanie acknowledged, Ranger had started to open up over the past year or so. Nevertheless, Ranger kept far more hidden than he revealed, in manner and in speech. 

It was no lie that he was the man of mystery, and she’d realized recently that she’d been happily filling in the blanks. In fact, ever since she’d met Ranger, she’d interpreted his gestures as evidence that he cared about her. After all, with anyone else it might be a fair assumption, as he helped her with marksmanship and skips, gave her cars, trusted her to hide him from the law, accepted her help with the Ramos family, and especially asked for her help to recover his daughter. Maybe it was even something like love in a walled-off heart.

But, for all she knew there was a whole fan club of ladies across Trenton who drove Ranger’s cars, did his odd jobs, and occasionally shared a bed with him when their boyfriends were temporarily on hiatus. Maybe there was another club in Florida with whom he shared dinner at Key Biscayne restaurants, car rides through the palms, and nights of _whatever_.

Yeah, she knew she was being unreasonable. But, what was she to think about a man who repeatedly disappeared after seeming to get close? A man who always seemed more comfortable with her when she had a boyfriend in the wings. 

A man who she still missed sometimes during the day and hungered for at night, though they’d never even been in an acknowledged relationship. Ranger, she’d decided, was like a drug. 

Stephanie shook her head. Thinking of Ranger during months of absence, she'd discovered another _Official Grownup Lesson_ , which was: sex with someone who kept their distance— physical and emotional— could be great in the moment, but as empty and cold as the pillow next to you in the morning when you woke up alone again. She’d actually already known that after the first time he’d shared her bed.

Ted nudged her from across the table. “It’s getting late, sleepyhead. We should probably pay up and head out so the staff can close up sometime tonight.” 

“Oh yeah,” Stephanie replied, thanking Ted inwardly for assuming her distraction was simply a case of being tired. Well, it was getting late. The diners at the veranda’s other table were pushing out chairs and standing, getting ready to leave. She saw at least one furtive yawn, which threatened to start one of her own. And just in case she was having any psychic doubt that it was the end of the evening’s festivities, _It Came Upon a Midnight Clear_ started playing over the speakers. 

After a brief tussle to pay the bill, which ended up a draw with the Ted and Stephanie each contributing half, Stephanie found herself and Ted walking down to the wooden walkway along the dune, headed back to the condo where she was staying. 

When they finally reached Ellie’s condo complex, and then her front door, Stephanie had steeled herself for the awkwardness. Because, though Ted was nice, she had only met him recently. She turned to him to bid him goodnight when he leaned in. Her shoulders stiffened, but to her surprise it was sweet. A gentleman’s kiss goodnight, soft lips greeting hers, one hand brushing her hair back softly from her face, the other lightly wrapping around her key-holding hand.

And then he pulled away. His smile was almost embarrassed as he met her gaze. “I really enjoyed tonight,” his voice half whispered.

“Me too,” her reply was equally soft in the night air. 

“I’ll call you before your flight on Sunday.” He winked with a youthful tilt to his head. “So you don’t forget about us when you leave for the winter wonderland up north.”

Stephanie smiled, releasing her hand from his grip one last time. She reached up as through straightening his collar, though actually just trying to recall how one said goodnight to an attentive man who wasn’t staying over. Who wasn’t Joe. Who wasn’t Ranger. 

“Don’t worry. There’s no way I’ll forget.” She retreated toward her door as he mirrored her in the other direction. “And I have your cell number to call you for Plum Christmas highlights, remember?” 

“Can’t wait,” he smiled. “Go inside and get some sleep,” he added, waiting far enough away that she knew he was simply watching over her while she fiddled with the lock. 

“Goodnight,” she called out as she stepped inside and closed the door, hearing his goodbye from the other side. Almost automatically, she turned the lock, set the deadbolt, and flipped off the light. 

Maybe she should consider returning to Key Biscayne after the holidays, she thought while walking toward the bedroom in the scattered illumination of appliance LEDs and night lights. It really was nice having the chance to start over. To come home to a place that felt warm and open, even though it was small. 

To meet people who didn’t have generations of expectations of her. And, more to the point, to possibly meet men who were interested in her. Men, or actually a _man_ , who would appreciate her for who she was becoming. A man who she might choose to know better. 

After all, she wasn’t having much luck with that in Trenton. Actually, she had the opposite of luck with men. If she had any interest in someone from the ’Burg, which wasn’t likely at this point, they’d steer clear with the assumption she was destined to end up with Joe. Or, that she was trouble. Outside of that, most other men she met had rap sheets. The only other category were Rangemen, who would steer clear assuming she was under the watchful eye of their dangerous boss, Ranger. 

She’d had more than a few fantasies of getting into the Federal Witness Protection Program just to meet new men. Even though she’d seen enough episodes of _In Plain Sight_ to know better.

If all of that wasn’t enough frustration, having been single for the better part of this past autumn after separating from Joe had led to yet one final _Official Grownup Lesson_. That was: her mother was addicted to fixing her up with men, but sucked at finding suitable matches. Of course, this was something that Stephanie had already known. The most recent unexpected blind date at Plum family dinner, though, had been the final straw. How could her mother even imagine that she’d be interested in Bennie Binman, a.k.a, Bingo the One Man Birthday Band? 

She ground her teeth slightly at the memory. She could probably do better on her own when half drunk. 

Actually, thinking about it, she _had_ just done better. And with nice cocktails. Holy cow, she had just kinda-sorta just been on a date with a very nice man. She felt a flutter, a fizz along her lips, though she suspected that the sensation was more about the idea of a date than about Ted’s sweet though tentative kiss. Because, though he was a nice guy and didn't seem to be a wacko or anything… well, she had spent the evening thinking about other men. It was hardly the sign of fascination, let alone passion. 

Maybe, though, she was still in that rebound phase that Connie used to talk about. Something to consider.

Even so, it was a start. Maybe she _could_ eventually be one of those people, like the older couple she’d seen earlier this evening. Walking comfortably with someone she’d known for a long time, sharing passion, sharing life. Perhaps it would be someone like Ranger, but who wanted a relationship. More likely, it would ultimately be someone like Ted, though that was something the future would tell her. 

After a moment of pawing around the avalanche of clothes on the bed to find her nightshirt, she gave up and turned on the bedside lamp. Tomorrow morning she was planning to clean up, so the condo would be nice for Ellie when she got back from her honeymoon. Just to be sure, she’d set the timer on the coffee maker and had stocked up on pastries to entice her out of bed. Oh, and also she’d set wake-up alarms on her phone. Five of them, because you never knew which one would work.

Then, after a rousing morning of coffee and sugar enhanced clean-up, she had a whole day to enjoy. Her only obligation was to stop one last time at The Grouper Inn to pick up her pay. After that, she’d penciled some important time in her thinking position on the beach. Followed by one more evening to enjoy finger food and fruity drinks with friends while listening to the surf.

She really, really could get used to this lifestyle. Something new and different.

_To be continued…_

* * *

_ Note:  _ Stephanie’s travel situation in this story is loosely based on what actually occurred in the Northeast during the 2014-2015 winter, a.k.a., the “Snowmageddon” that set crazy snowfall records. Every few days it snowed, and snowed, and snowed… and snowed. It shut down East Coast airports and Amtrak off-and-on for weeks. Flights got re-routed and travelers were stranded. It even caused the NY and Boston subways to completely shut down for a few days, which almost never happens. We had a 12-foot wall of snow in front of our house and the car stayed buried out back for over a month. Ah, good times!


	2. Frosty the Snowman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story disclaimers and background can be found at the start of Chapter 1.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Frosty the Snowman**

Really, on a morning like this one, who wouldn’t find themselves dancing around to _Frosty the Snowman_ on the stereo? The real question might be: why not also sing along? 

“Frosty the Snowman, he’s a jolly happy soul,” Stephanie crooned as she finished rounding up the last of the trash baskets in Ellie’s condo. Pausing, she reached up to straighten her elf hat, which she had found at the pop-up Christmas store last week. When she’d found the hat bin, of course she’d immediately looked for one like Will Ferrell had worn in _Elf_. No doubt those had sold out first. So, she’d happily settled for the classic red-and-green striped, floppy felt stocking cap with sewn-on elf ears.

Inspired, she’d gotten one for Grandma Mazur, too. And LED-bulb headbands for Valerie and her daughters. If there were extra headbands for Valerie’s Albert and her own father, well, it was their choice whether to wear them or not. She’d also bought a reindeer bib for little Lisa, figuring that would be okay for a child who would likely end up being Jewish. She’d even found a green-and-red pet collar that maybe she could persuade Rex to wear. Finally, since Stephanie conceded that her mother was determined to be the adult in the family, she’d bought her a colorful Christmas tree pin with a tiny, optionally lighted star at the top. 

She’d shopped for other gifts at the same time— small items that she could carry on her return flight— but she knew the headgear was really her gift-giving achievement for the year. Christmas day would be legendary.

Of course, that would be after she _finally_ got back home on Christmas morning. She’d held-off checking the weather report this morning, because why bother? Either the weather would be fine, or it would dump another several feet of snow on New Jersey and she’d spend lunchtime trapped in a plane on Miami International Airport’s tarmac, yet again. Some things were worth planning; others simply required good music, a grocery store novel, or a nap to get through. Any combination of those would do.

Meanwhile, she had a whole day to enjoy in Key Biscayne after she finished straightening Ellie’s apartment. Sunlight streamed through the front window, the bakery downtown was sure to have fresh muffins, and the beach awaited her arrival. And this evening she’d pick up her final check and then meet her friends at yet another new restaurant bar. 

“Thumpity thump thump, thumpity thump thump,” Stephanie sang as she hop-walked back to the kitchen to refresh her coffee mug. “Look at Frosty go,” she giggled as she poured a fresh cup. “Mmm mmm mmm, mmm mmm mmm,” she hummed along while savoring a warm sip of fresh coffee, then finished with the singer, “Over the hills of snow.”

Putting down her mug, she wondered why she didn’t often wake up with this much energy in her apartment in Trenton. Maybe she needed a new brand of coffee. “Cafe Bustelo,” the bright red and yellow bag of ground coffee fairly shouted when she glanced at the counter. Well, she thought, it certainly had added a “boost-a-lo” to her mornings here, so it was worth a try. She was pretty sure they carried it at the convenience store near Vinnie’s. 

Then again, though, maybe she just needed better music in the morning. Oh, and brighter sunshine during the winter. Maybe she needed more time with actual friends. She smiled. Maybe even more kinda-sorta dates. 

Her thoughts were interrupted as her cellphone on the kitchen counter announced, “We are the Griswolds!” 

Ah yes, the newest Plum family ringtone. “Good morning,” Stephanie answered. “Happy Christmas week.”

“Good morning, it’s your mother.” 

Stephanie just rolled her eyes. Like she wouldn’t have recognized her mother’s voice. “Hi Mom, what’s up?”

“I’m just checking in to make sure you’re doing all right,” she answered, “and that you haven’t caught that cold that’s going around,” 

After Stephanie reassured her that she was fine, and that nobody even near her had a cold, Helen Plum continued with an update from home. Unsurprisingly, not much had happened since a week ago. Oh, except Mrs. Motola’s grandma had demolished the fiberglass Dumbo in front of FunLand with her Buick LeSabre because the whole faux Disney installation was covered in ten feet of snow. (“Nobody was hurt, dear, except Dumbo.”) 

Oh, and Bud Murkowski apparently _had_ run away from home, after all. Sam Haddad had spotted him at the racetrack in Saratoga. Stephanie could ignore all those rumors about Edith Murkowski electrocuting him and burying him under the new shed’s concrete foundation out back. (“Of course, we still don’t know what happened to Mr. Murkowski’s brother, Buster.”)

Oh, and Valerie’s daughter Lisa was fine after having that little Monopoly racing car removed from her nostril at the emergency room by that nice man, Doctor Butts. (“I think he’s single; you could do worse than dating a doctor. And maybe you wouldn’t have to worry about insurance anymore.”)

Stephanie half listened while puttering through her cleanup, murmuring “uh huh” and “yup” at the appropriate times. So, she was caught unawares when her mother asked, “Stephanie, are you paying attention?” 

“You bet,” she perked up. “But maybe there’s interference so I didn’t catch that last bit.” She put down the towel she’d been using to dry dishes, then reached up to make sure her nose wasn’t doing a Pinocchio. 

“What’s your flight number on Christmas day?” her mother repeated. “That nice Joe Morelli came over with a couple of his police friends and helped us dig the Lincoln out of the snowbank in front. Which means your father can come pick you up at the airport with room for luggage.” 

“That’s great, Mom,” she intoned, and then summarized the flight information from the print-out taped to the fridge. 

As they wound down the call and hung up, she reflected that it actually _was_ great that her dad was picking her up from the airport. Not having to pay for a ride all the way home from Philadelphia International Airport was a huge savings. 

Not to mention that she could fit all her luggage in her dad’s Town Car trunk— including her new el-cheapo Target suitcase filled with silver-wrapped packages for family and friends— with ridiculous amounts of room left over. Like if Donner and Dancer and the gang decided to peel off to play some of their infamous Reindeer Games over Route 295 on the way to Trenton, possibly she and Dad could stuff Santa’s sleigh back there for the remainder of the trip up. It was like a public service to get driven around in that car.

Not so great, though, was the reminder that she was reentering a world with Joe Morelli in it. Sure, they’d broken up well before she’d come down here for Ellie’s wedding. And, sure, she had been feeling like their relationship was over, even before that. But they'd made up before. Several times. 

Though this breakup might be different, since for the first time it had actually been a relief to be apart. No more silent treatment over her tears after the incident where she'd helped Ranger rescue his daughter and he'd been shot. And almost died. And then had left Trenton to deal with his family, which made sense, but had left a hole in her life that she simply couldn't explain to Joe no matter how hard she'd tried.

She squared her shoulders, turning toward Ellie’s bedroom to finish getting dressed for the day. Without realizing it, she found herself humming along to Elvis as he crooned _Blue Christmas._

Okay, maybe Joe’s complaints about her attraction to Ranger were valid. The distance granted by this time apart had given her that clarity. But it had been moot at the point Joe had broken off with her, since the Man of Mystery hadn’t been seen in Trenton since shortly after recovering from Scrog’s bullet.

 _But wait_ , she reeled herself back. Joe. Her relationship with Joe was its own thing, with its own issues even without the Ranger-sized elephant in the room. Exhibit number one being that, even if Ranger was out of Stephanie’s life, Joe’s fun stakeout friend, Terry Gilman, was very much still in town. It was rumored she was working for her dad Vito Grizolli now, no doubt building on her illustrious career as a prom queen and a New York Giants cheerleader 

Snark aside, why did Joe have repeated stakeouts involving her when she clearly wasn’t a cop? Why did they seem to be in motels? And why did he never tell Stephanie in advance? 

She stopped, dress hanger in hand. Even if Joe wasn’t cheating on her, he didn’t trust her enough to tell her about Terry. And Stephanie didn’t trust him enough to believe him, even if he had. The way he didn’t entirely trust her about Ranger. _So yeah_ , she imagined asking herself, _how do you think you’re in love with someone, or even destined to be together, if you don’t trust each other?_

That was certainly something to consider in more depth at the beach, later today, lounging in her thinking position. As she slipped on her sundress, she considered that the whole “thinking” thing wasn’t quite the same without the squeak of Rex’s wheel, though the seagulls always did their part to fill in the soundscape. Squawking wheels going around in her mind, turning up new connections, new ideas. 

But drat! She’d forgotten to ask her mom how Rex was doing at Valerie’s house. Even though she’d be retrieving him from Val’s in a couple of days, she suddenly felt like a negligent hamster parent. She looked at the clock, and decided she’d text her sister later this afternoon. 

Of course, in addition to checking on Rex, she’d be sure to check on Lisa and her nose garage. Clearly some traditions just ran in the family. After all, she herself had been accused of having a nose closet after stuffing Barbie shoes up her nostrils in pre-school. Probably Lisa was just building a timely addition to the Plum family nose-house. 

While she reflected, Stephanie started packing her bag for the day. She had too much for the cute straw bag she’d bought her first week here. Actually, she admitted, it was too small for most of her purse needs. That didn't matter: even if it was just sitting on a shelf in her closet, its woven, bubble-gum pink flamingos would be a perfect reminder of this whole magical yet impractical trip. 

She walked toward the front door, looking around the condo as though for the first time. Not even as large as her place in Trenton, after just three weeks it felt like hers. She’d come to love the seashells painted along the top of the sand colored walls as much as the modern bathroom fixtures. 

She had to leave, though, one way or the other. Ellie was planning to sell the condo after returning from her honeymoon so she and her new husband could buy a house together. Even if Stephanie returned to visit Key Biscayne again, she wouldn’t be able to stay in the place that had begun to feel like home. 

A home that was cozy and warm, with an orange tree out back, a shared swimming pool, and a family of chatty birds that lived nearby.

She paused at the front door, taking a deep, steadying breath. This was also a home that didn’t have a Goodwill rug in the foyer covering blood stains that she still hadn’t been able to lift. Even if she had been able to get rid of the chairs that she and Ranger’s daughter, Julie, had been tied to when Scrog had held them captive.

She shook her head, stepped outside, and turned briefly to lock the door behind her. Today was one of her last sunny days in paradise and she wasn’t going to spend it on sad memories. 

At first shaded by stairs to the unit above, she stepped into the sunlight. It still took her breath away to leave her apartment and go directly outside. Squat palmettos stood in loose formation, like palm fronded munchkins marking her way through the yellowish paved path. On one side, she could see the scraggly walkway that led toward a narrow strip of rocky sand and an aging pier. Today, though, she turned the other way, toward the street. 

The already sun-heated, hexagonal patterned concrete led her first toward the pool, where Ellie’s next-door neighbor Larissa looked up from a faded green chaise lounge. “Good morning. How’s the exotic life of our Brown Snow Bunting, today?” 

Stephanie laughed at her running joke; every day Larissa greeted her with the name of a different bird that migrated for the winter. Since Larissa didn’t worry about whether the named birds actually migrated to Florida, or even were American, some had been rather funny. Especially when accompanied by Larissa’s grandson Alex doing fake bird calls. The Rainbow Bee Eater (“ooh wowza, buzz buzz”) had been her favorite, along with the Indian Hawk-Cuckoo (“squawk coo-curry, squawk coo-curry”). 

“Doing good. Where’s Alex this morning?” 

“His mom has him. Last minute holiday shopping.” She put down her paperback. “Hey, aren’t you trying to fly away from us yet again, one of these days?” 

“This Wednesday. Christmas day.” Seeing Larissa’s squint, she added, “Everything else was booked. Unless I wanted the seat outside the toilet. Or was willing to risk getting stranded during an extended layover someplace.” She shrugged her satchel’s strap back up to her shoulder. “I did all my shopping, so it’s actually okay. I get to skip all the cooking and family insanity before Christmas, and get the gifts and a big dinner after. It’s a win-win. Of course, it all depends on if the weather gods are smiling.” 

“How could they not smile on you?” Larissa waved in Stephanie’s direction. “But come give me a hug in case I don’t see you again before then. I’ll miss you!” 

Stephanie leaned down into the older woman’s embrace. “Me too,” she agreed, her chin awkwardly nestled against Larissa’s sun visor. “Think of me on Bingo night,” she smiled, pulling back. 

Releasing Stephanie, Larissa winked. “Too bad you’ll miss Drinking Bingo next week. I was absolutely going to beat you at that one. Payback for coming in as the neighborhood newbie and winning Rock n’ Roll Bingo.” Then she laughed and waved her hand toward the street entrance to their condo complex. “Go, kiddo. You’ll still have time to get the bus if you hurry.”

“I’ll stay in touch,” Stephanie promised as she hastened her way toward the street gate. Where she did just make the bus, partly because the driver saw her and stopped a half block down. 

“Thanks Oscar,” she puffed, greeting one of the regular drivers while boarding. Unlike in Trenton, he greeted her back by name and actually waited until she sat before pulling away from the curb.

As they made the slow trip to downtown Key Biscayne, Stephanie gazed out the window while sorting out her next steps. From a practical standpoint, she needed to stop by the Grouper Inn to pick up her last check. But she still had cash, along with a bit left in her checking account from the fortuitously large bounty she’d picked up just before coming down to Biscayne Bay. 

Saying a quick apology to God for endorsing crime, she followed up with a mental thank you to Stewie “the Skunk” Bandolino for ineptly trying to rob a bank, getting his bail bond through Vinnie’s Bonds, and then going FTA shortly before the holiday season. Should she get him a holiday card? After all, he’d sorta paid for her time here in semi-paradise. 

Okay, probably that was a bad idea. But, with another quick apology to God, she hoped there would be another high-value FTA coming up soon after she got back to Trenton. If the stupid bad guys all kept indoors the way Connie reported, she’d really have to skimp when she got back to Trenton. 

She pursed her lips; she was looking at a whole bunch of suppers with her folks. Good thing she’d be there anyway to help Dad shovel. Without Joe Morelli’s help, thank you very much. 

As she tossed her head at that thought, the bus pulled over at her stop. She got out and waved as the bus pulled away, and then started walking. In the weeks she’d spent down here, she’d learned her way around. At least to important landmarks, like the ATM and the Corner Café near the Winn Dixie. 

She strolled along a street lined with palms, whose trunks were loosely wrapped in holiday lights. In a gap between buildings, she briefly spotted the large Key Biscayne Christmas tree in the park at the center of the town. A few nights ago, her friends had taken her there after dinner to _ooh and ahh_ over its bright colors and shining star. It really had been pretty, even though her New Jersey instincts kept trying to convince her that the white twinkle lights mounded on the surrounding shrubs were snow. 

They’d joined in with a group of caroling school children for a few songs. Though in sweaters rather than parkas, the children were like carolers everywhere. Rosy cheeked with effort, they’d held books of carols in their not-really-gloved hands and had earnestly worked to sing in key. Stephanie, her friends, and other passers-by had managed to stay in tune enough that it was a rousing, festive celebration of holiday tradition. 

Then, after a brief stroll around the park, her new friend Laurie, along with Ted, had driven her back to Ellie’s condo for the night. At the time, it had been Stephanie’s first time in a car since arriving. Since then, she kept wondering what it would be like to live someplace, like this, where she could primarily rely on buses and occasional car hires. What would it be like to not have rotating ownership of a series of crap third-hand cars? 

Or to rely on Ranger to swoop in and just “give” her expensive cars to drive. And wreck. She puffed out a breathy exhale; she still hadn’t gotten over the Boxster, or any of the other cars he’d lent her. It gave her a brief queasy feeling every time she thought about it. So, she mostly tried not to, which should’ve been easier to do with Ranger “in the wind” or _wherever_ for the past couple of months. 

Should’ve been. 

With a quick head shake to remind herself, again, that today was about the here-and-now, she shifted her satchel to her other shoulder and resumed walking. After another intersection, she crossed the street and went half-way down the block. 

She stopped by a building whose whole side was covered in a mural. Vibrantly painted blue and green fish swam amidst ribbons of green plants, above brown sand shading into gold. A series of real-life windows running up the far edge of the building were assimilated along the edge of an angular coral outcropping. 

Just an everyday building, brick and concrete, rough under the paint. She’d seen it the first day she’d been here; an unexceptional building that had blossomed under someone’s care into a reminder of the rich life that flourished all around it. Her phone already had pictures of the mural from her first week here, but she’d wanted to see it one more time, in person, before she headed back north. 

“Bye fishies,” she murmured with a finger wave, then looked around to make sure nobody was watching. Or, at least, listening. She reached out and touched the wall. “I’ll miss you guys. Be good.” 

Imagining a fishy wink farewell, perhaps even the shimmy of some kelp in a “bye for now” wave, she continued to the end of the block. A hand-painted sign hung over the door of her destination, the Corner Café. It wasn’t a home comfort like Tasty Pastry, where the counter was still faced in tile popular in the 1950s and the staff knew your family back from the days of the Great Depression. After all, a tourist area like Key Biscayne wasn’t likely to have a stuck-in-the-1950s haunts like an old Trenton neighborhood. 

But Stephanie had decided she could definitely get used to the Corner Café’s quaint tables and its delectable combination of cholesterol-rich treats with little difficulty. Opening the door, she inhaled with gusto. Fresh ground coffee. Heated chocolate. Belgian waffles. And the trifecta of warm butter, syrup, and sugar. People told her that it wasn’t possible to smell sugar, but Stephanie knew better. 

She inhaled again and smiled. Brunch was in order. And a takeout bag of pastries. Enough to tide her over until it was time for her flight back to Trenton. They’d fit just fine in her satchel for the day. Pleased with her preparation, she knew there was enough room because, of course, she’d done the same thing a few days ago. Knowing how to arrange one’s bags to carry pastries was an important life skill, and nobody would persuade her otherwise.

Waving at the register staff, she stepped in line to place her order. A quiet, instrumental version of _Let It Snow_ played in the background as she waited. She inhaled again, closing her eyes to memorize the delicious scent of the cafe’s essence. A little gift to herself, which she could take home with her and enjoy whenever her mind carried her back here. 

As she stepped to the front of the line, once again she smiled. If nothing else, this unexpected vacation had given a real chance to simply relax and enjoy life. She seriously needed to figure out why this seemed like such a big departure from her regular life.

_To be continued…_


	3. All I Want for Christmas is You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story disclaimers and background can be found at the start of Chapter 1.

* * *

**Chapter 3: All I Want for Christmas Is You**

Slipping off her sandals under the table, Stephanie leaned back in her chair and felt the delicious twinge of heat from the slight sunburn on her shoulders. 

She looked around; this was a restaurant she’d hadn’t visited yet, near one of Key Biscayne’s incongruous blocks of big hotels. It was why she’d chosen the beach about fifteen minutes away to explore her thinking position while basking in the sun. Of course, Florida’s humid air had managed to give her that much loved “wildly overgrown Chia Pet” hairdo. As a result, her afternoon had also featured a quick trip to the hairdressers down the street for a travel-sized bottle of hair product. It wasn’t the quality that she usually got from Mr. Alexander. She was going to have to hide from him for probably a week after she got back, or at least until her hair settled down. 

But at least she didn’t look like an untended Chia Pet anymore. 

Reading quickly through the drinks menu while Chuck Berry belted out  _ Run Rudolph Run  _ from the bar speakers, she made one of the day’s many important decisions. Tonight was strawberry daiquiri night. No doubt about it. 

Buoyed by that successful moment of decisive clarity, she took another moment to read through the appetizers. Ah, clearly a plate of mini pizzas was the right place to start while waiting for her friends to join her tonight after work. She was performing valuable taste testing for the entire party. It was a heady responsibility, but somebody had to do it.

Not to mention, she was still on vacation for another day, gosh darn it! Getting some extra sun, indulging herself with treats… she was just stocking up on the experience. It was like how squirrels collected nuts. She snorted, imagining herself digging little holes in the berm behind her Trenton apartment, all winter long, to unearth little hoarded vacation memories. All with her bushy chia tail wagging like Bob the dog with a whole pizza in his mouth.

Speaking of pizza… she pushed her menu away and leaned back slightly to see if she could spot her waitress. Normally she’d say that would be easy, since the staff was all wearing Santa hats. However, half of the patrons seemed to have also donned festive headgear. She squinted, then dug into her satchel on the chance that maybe she’d managed to bring her elf hat. 

And, success! She grinned, pulling out her hat and plonking it firmly on her head. Well, as firmly as her newly civilized curls permitted. While clipping the hat to her hair, she checked her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling cafe window by her table. Yup, even with the hair clips, it listed to the side, but that seemed reasonable in a perfectly elf-like way. 

_ Holiday spirit look out _ , she affirmed to her reflection.  _ You’ve met your match in Stephanie Plum.  _

“Hello, fellow Santa’s helper,” a cheery voice brought Stephanie’s attention back into the main room. “I’m Mindy, your waitress. Can I get you something from the bar? Or are you ready to order?” 

“Just a strawberry daiquiri right now, and a large order of the mini-pizzas with extra mozzarella.”

“Ooh, those are really yummy. I think you’ll like them,” Mindy confided, as though they’d known each other for years instead of minutes. “Just you for now? Or should I bring some plates to share?” 

As Stephanie requested extra plates for her friends, if they happened to arrive before she finished the entire platter, Stephanie noted the slick way Mindy asked if she was dining by herself. She tucked it away for her own waitress repertoire, and only then remembered that she was now officially out of the waitress gig as of this afternoon’s Grouper Inn paycheck. 

Unexpectedly, she felt a trace of sadness about that. Despite the delicate eau-du-fried-fish scent that her clothes and hair picked up each shift, she‘d actually enjoyed the job. It had been fun to interact with the customers. Beyond that, there was the quiet camaraderie of setting up for business, the high-five of making it through the lunch rush, and the pleasure of being wished a good day by the manager, Bart, at the end of each shift. 

She suspected it wouldn’t make sense to anyone else. But, she’d had a teary moment when Bart had bustled from the back to hand over her final paycheck in a Grouper Inn envelope. Dabbing her eyes, she’d blamed it on onions being fried. 

In a voice that was many decibels lower than his usual boom, Bart had said that he’d have an opening mid-January. He’d then handed her his card, telling her to call him after the New Year if she was interested. When he said he’d save the position for her, it was like he’d promised to save the last, best piece of birthday cake, just for her. 

Sometimes you needed a lot more birthday cake than other times. Bart’s offer was another memory her bushy squirrel self would be sure to dig out in the coming months. Because she had been truly tempted….

Absent-mindedly rubbing the recently ticklish spot on her neck, she found herself pulling out her phone to see if her much-rescheduled flight had been delayed again, or even canceled. Her virtuous self primly affirmed that it was a good idea to check flight status  _ before _ heading to the airport, unlike a week ago. But really, she wouldn’t mind spending a few more days here in Florida. Or a few more weeks. Really, it could be as long as nature wanted to keep dumping snow on New Jersey.  _ Or even longer, _ her traitorous mind added.

Of course, she only had a place to stay until Ellie came back from her honeymoon in about a week. And she’d already checked: rents were ridiculously high, here. And mortgages were certainly more than she could afford.

Her attention returned to the here-and-now as a group of young women at the bar began singing along to  _ Jingle Bell Rock _ . An older couple a few tables away laughed. And Stephanie decided that it was far too nice an evening to rue might-have-beens. Whether jobs, locations, or the ghosts of birthday cakes missed. 

She looked back at the window. Even though the afternoon was barely over, the sun was beginning to set in a gorgeous palette of color. She watched as a flurry of seagulls dove by the pier where a few fishermen were packing their gear. Strings of fairy lights in the outside trees shimmered in the gentle gusts of breeze from the water. 

She scooted in her chair as someone passed behind her, on the way to another table. And then smiled as her drink was delivered. With a quick toss of the head, she he picked up her drink for a sip. 

Oh, that was purely divine. Strawberries, rum, and lime were clearly gifts of the gods. She looked around surreptitiously.  _ Hmm _ , apparently she’d moaned out loud, given the side-eyed looks she was getting from nearby tables. She noted the older lady from a few tables away, whose beady gaze reminded her somewhat of her Grandma Mazur. Stephanie held up her glass and mouthed “strawberry daiquiri.” After a blink, the older woman looked away. Probably she was now planning to order one for herself when the waitress returned. 

She held her drink in front of her, recognizing with delight that her drink’s berry shade matched a band of color that the sunset had now striped along the horizon. She ran her free index finger around the edge of the glass, and then swiped it down along the frosted bowl before taking another sip. She felt so elegant, having a cocktail in the late afternoon in the shadow of palm trees, watching the sunset reflected in the choppy water along the shore like a scattering of garnets.

She felt that tingle along her shoulders again, like last night, as though she was being watched. She set down her drink and turned slightly away from the sunset, toward the front of the bar. Unbidden, her hand rose to her neck as she scanned the room, her fingers momentarily icy against the flushed reminder of this afternoon’s sun. 

Maybe the feeling was sunburn, after all. Maybe it was that feeling when you weren’t being paranoid, but you still had suspicions that that you couldn’t quite resolve. Like when you were pretty sure that Joyce Barnhardt was the person who’d intercepted all of your Valentines cards in fifth grade, but you couldn’t prove it. 

Maybe it was longing, since she’d seen that man, last night. The one who had looked so much like Ranger. Who actually might have been him, but Stephanie didn’t want to think too much about it since he’d been with that tall, laughing woman. 

Sensing motion behind her yet again, she leaned forward as another person walked behind her. She felt the figure stop at her side, so looked up and managed to squint directly into the light over the next table. And then a masculine hand pulled out the chair next to her. “Is this seat taken?” he said in an unforgettable baritone voice while moving to sit with lithe grace. 

“Ranger?” she asked, though there was no doubt who was sitting across from her. Even so, she briefly pinched herself under the table to make sure her most recent thoughts hadn’t propelled her into fantasy-land.  _ Ouch _ . Nope, she was still seated firmly in the real world.

“The one and only,” he replied, his eyes dancing. “You’re looking good.” 

“Um, thanks.” She blinked. “You’re looking… really here. Like, not my imagination. Or a sunburn.”

As his eyebrow drifted upward, she added, “How did you find me?” 

“I asked around,” he tilted his head in a gesture she knew so well. 

“You  _ were _ there last night,” Stephanie deduced. “Wait, have you been tracking me?” Stephanie squinted, tempted to pick up her satchel to see if she could find one of the Rangeman pens or keyrings that she’d belatedly realized in Trenton were how the Merry Men had so readily found her, time after time.

His lips twitched and reflected light from the bar made it look almost like a smile. “Not really. I didn’t know you were here in the Miami area,” he paused. “But since I thought saw you last night, I asked around a little. And I found you here.” He paused. “Nice hat, by the way.” 

“I have an extra one if you want. Oh, but not with me,” she hastened to add. She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at her unconscious assumption that Ranger, badass mercenary, would even consider wearing a goofy elf’s hat. 

“No need, Babe,” his eyes sparkled. “I do ‘dress up’ a little differently.”

Imagining what that ‘dress up’ might entail, she fought a blush while regarding him over the rim of her glass. His face had lost the stress that had accumulated during his daughter’s kidnapping and his own convalescence. 

She might’ve chalked it up to him amusement, or to him being more tanned than usual, but it was more than that. He’d lost the furrow that had started to engrave itself between his eyes. The shadows that had darkened his eyes had faded. The pinched look around his lips was gone. 

She took a sip, glad to see him looking so well. And then she noticed, with a start, that the most disconcerting difference was that he wasn’t wearing all black. She blinked. The Ranger sitting across from her was wearing a blue heather polo shirt and granite colored slacks. And whatever aftershave he was using wasn’t Bulgari. 

“Wait. Who  _ are  _ you?” she blurted. 

“Street name’s Ranger,” he leaned back, arm over the back of the chair next to him in almost exactly the posture he’d affected when they first met. “Connie Rosolli mentioned I should stop by to meet another badass fugitive apprehension agent.” His eyebrow winged provocatively. “Pleased to meet you.” 

Stephanie snorted. “Very funny,” she tried to hide the smile that fluttered under her lips by taking another sip from her drink. In the back of her mind she knew it might be dangerous to have an extended conversation with Ranger if she got any tipsier than she already was. But hey, she was still on vacation. At least for a day or two more. 

And anyway, he was possibly dating that long legged, laughing woman from last night. And ‘legs’ might actually be the reason he was back in this neighborhood again tonight. Her mood deflated slightly, and she took another sip.

Then she perked back up, realizing retroactively that he’d actually just referred to her as badass. At that, she couldn’t hide her burgeoning smile any longer. She reached out to put down her drink, only to splash it as her arm collided with an unexpected body.

“Hey there,” Mindy the waitress had darted in at her side, Santa cap aquiver. “Just delivering the goodies,” she said, leaning down with a platter laden with four-inch-round pizzas, along with a small stack of plates. She put one in front of Stephanie and another before Ranger, as though a man who looked like him would defile his body with an appetizer chock full of major food groups like carbohydrates, fat, and salt. 

And then Stephanie was suddenly looking at the back of a waitress apron and green skirt as Mindy turned toward the man in question. “And what can I get for  _ you _ ?” Mindy asked in a tone that made ordering from the laminated drinks and appetizer menu sound like an unexpectedly delightful, sensuous adventure. 

“Steph, what do you recommend,” Ranger peered around Mindy, eyebrow raised in casual inquiry. And with that move, alone, he reminded Stephanie why he’d been one of her favorite people from the start of their acquaintance. 

“Well, this is my first time here,” she smiled, dabbing up bits of strawberry ice from the oilcloth table covering. “But I can vouch that they make a great daiquiri.” It really was yummy, so she felt virtuous about providing tested, true advice. And healthy advice too because… strawberries. 

She briefly considered ordering another, but she still had over a half glass remaining, even after the minor spill, and didn’t want to get  _ too  _ tipsy, after all. 

“It’s a bit early for me, Babe,” Ranger answered casually as he perused the menu that was now in his hand. “I think I’ll stick with a soda water with lime. And the hummus plate.” He handed the menu back to the waitress with a brief smile, which nevertheless was clearly enough of a smile to propel Mindy into the ether for a moment. “That’s all for now,” Ranger finally prompted.

“Oh yeah, um, I’ll go now and do that order,” Mindy replied before turning and darting back toward the kitchen. 

“Okay, so now I believe you’re Ranger,” Stephanie smirked gently as she reached for another piece of mini-pizza. “You still have that awesome ability to cause stupor in random women while rocking the newest Latino Gap look.”

“The former I have little control over,” he shrugged, and was that a smidgeon of chagrin on his face? Well, that was new. Before she could consider what that might mean, he continued. “As for my clothing,” his shoulder lifted again in a brief shrug, “that’s something I’m trying out.”

“No more Rangeman official Man in Black look?”

“At work, yes.” He glanced downward briefly before capturing her eyes again. “But I’ve recently become very aware that life is brief, and should be more than just work.” She could feel her brows draw together as she thought about what he was saying. 

Then he admitted with something like a smile, “It’s a new concept.” He gestured around them. “So, work or pleasure?” 

“What?” she paused while reaching again for her drink.

“What brings you to Key Biscayne?”

“Oh,” she replied, wrapping her finger around the cool stem of her glass on the table. “A wedding. My roommate from college lives down here.” 

“A Christmas wedding?” 

“No, actually the wedding was a few weeks ago. I got to do the bridesmaid thing in a burgundy colored dress I might actually be able to wear again, especially since has a great scoop neckline without any wedding lace,” she outlined with her hands, “ _ and  _ it goes really well with my knockoff Jimmy Choos.” Stephanie paused, grinning at Ranger’s expression. It had always been fun to amuse him with the details of her life. When he was down, it actually seemed to lift his spirits. And, even now, he seemed entertained rather than judgmental. 

“Anyhow,” she continued, “I followed that up with a weekend in paradise, as planned.” She lifted her daiquiri for a sip. “A day at the Dolphin Mall in Miami, a day here at the beach. It was awesome,” she inhaled slowly as though keeping the memory inside until the very last moment. “After which, Plum family luck kicked in. My flight home got cancelled due to that first, huge blizzard all up the East Coast. Then it was cancelled again, due to the next huge blizzard. The next time it was overbooked. Most recently my plane was delayed until the airport closed due to mechanical issues.”

She put down her glass. “I finally managed to reschedule it to Christmas morning. It’s not ideal, but it leaves mid-morning at a sensible time. And, I figure the plane won’t be crowded.”

“I had no idea,” Ranger moved forward in his chair, his dark brows pulling together. “You know, Steph, you can always call me, or even just the main Rangeman number, if you need cash or a place to stay.”

“Oh, not to worry. Since my friend Ellie is on her honeymoon, I’m staying at her place nearby.” She traced between beaded drops of water on the tablecloth while she contemplated what it meant that, honestly, she hadn’t actually considered reaching out to Ranger. Or Joe. Maybe it was just because she knew she had money from her recent bounty. Maybe it was because she’d actually managed to get a job while here. 

Maybe— and this was definitely something to think about— she didn’t tend to ask for help. Ever. And yet Ranger, at least, always seemed to know when it might be needed.

_ Huh. _

“Just keep it in mind, Babe,” Ranger had reached out with a light touch to still her fingers, and she felt the electrical warmth of his skin flash through her whole body. She felt a shiver that wasn’t due to the cold. 

He released her as his eyes shifted to somewhere over her shoulder. Then Mindy the waitress appeared, tray in hand, answering her question of what his always-aware-of-his-surroundings gaze had spotted. 

“Hey there,” Mindy’s cheery voice rang out. “One Big Biscayne Hummus Plate plus a soda water with lime,” she put down each item as she named it. Stephanie noted with amusement that Ranger had shifted in his seat so that Mindy wasn’t between him and Stephanie any more. She was reminded how he often said more with simple gestures than other people ( _ ahem _ , Joe) did with all of their claims and protestations. 

“Looks good,” Ranger commented, pushing this hummus platter toward the center of the table. “Steph, feel free to try some.” 

“Thanks,” she smiled, even as she took pity on poor Mindy, whose own smile had lost its sparkle with the realization that Ranger was actually here with Stephanie. Even if that was a bit of a stretch, it still left a nice taste on her emotional palate. 

Feeling magnanimous, she glanced up at the waitress and complimented her on the enameled Christmas stocking pin pinned to her lapel. And, while she was at it, she decided to ask for another daiquiri, after all. The way she figured, it was a win-win: she would get another yummy drink and also add another reason to leave a nice tip. 

Smiling at her clearly irrefutable logic, she sat back while Ranger sampled the hummus. Each to their own, she thought, as she watched an expression of enjoyment relax his features. And then she paused, wondering at this moment. Here she was, sitting at a table in a nice restaurant, having an early evening snack with Ricardo Carlos Mañoso while the night engulfed the horizon outside. 

Eating, relaxing, and just… chatting. Without plotting how to catch a skip, or juggle the requirements of daily life, or pay her rent, or find her next crappy car. Away from Trenton and all the drama of her life, it was just  _ easy  _ being with Ranger. 

Maybe it was easier for him, too. After the whole Scrog fiasco, she thought she might never see a genuine smile on his face again. And yet, here he was, spending time on simple pleasures: sitting in a restaurant full of waitresses in Santa hats while  _ Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree _ twanged in the background, enjoying food, chatting with her, and wearing something other than black. 

Of course, the two guns and a knife might still be there, somewhere in his shoes or belt. Or maybe duct-taped to his body under his shirt, unlikely as that seemed given the nice fit. Really nice fit…. 

_ Must not drool, must not drool _ , she repeated to herself quickly to dispel the spell. Maybe she should wait before starting on the next daiquiri, after all. But, considerations of daiquiris aside, tonight Ranger didn’t seem like a man on a mission, licensed to kill. Tonight, he was a tanned, rested and handsome man in a restaurant. 

“Oh, you really like it down here,” she realized, and then figured out that she’d said that aloud when his gaze angled back toward her. 

“I do,” he replied after a brief pause. “I do,” he repeated with a small tilt to his lips. “And you? Are you enjoying the warmth this time of year?”

Stephanie squinted, sensing that she was being deflected but she wasn’t sure why. No matter; she knew from experience that Ranger sometimes needed to test the waters for a while before he would say what was really on his mind. And, it seemed to help when she shared her own thoughts, first.

She relaxed into the pleasure of the moment. “I am. It’s as though Point Pleasant picked up and moved away from Trenton for a few weeks, like a magic carpet just for me. People down here think it’s nippy weather, so I’ve had the beach mostly to myself for a few weeks.” She reached over toward the hummus plate because, well, why not try that since it was here. And bonus: her plate poaching seemed to please Ranger in some way, if his expression was any indication.

“Huh, this is actually good,” she mumbled around a mouthful of unexpected flavor. At Ranger’s bark of laughter, she picked up a carrot stick from the platter and shook it at him. “But don’t think I’m getting fooled into changing my diet to these ‘bad boys’ just because they’re disguised by dip. I’ve seen that ploy before,” she smirked knowingly. However, despite her claim, she boldly decided to take one more swipe through the hummus bowl with her carrot. It was actually kind of good. 

“Good to know you’re alert to dangerous disguises,” he actually smiled. And Stephanie added  _ sharing casual jokes _ to her list of tonight’s unusual Ranger activities. 

“So, mostly you’ve been at the beach?” he continued.

“Well, I do go almost every day,” she replied. “I’m mostly beyond the sunburn phase and am finalizing my show-off tan for when I’m back in Trenton.” Reaching forward for another mini-pizza this time, she added, “Who knew that soaking up the sun could be better than shoveling a foot of snow every few days?” she snorted. 

Ranger actually chuckled at that. “Not arguing with you, there.” He paused. “That sounds like quite a lifestyle, Babe.” 

“Yeah, it’s pretty good. But to be honest, over three weeks of nothing but the beach would be a bit much, even for me. I’ve also been working part time.” She took a bite of pizza and exhaled in pleasure. 

The older couple swiveling her way again, coupled with Ranger’s expression, clued her into the notion that she probably had done more than simply breathe with abandon. But seriously, pepperoni and prosciutto draped with cheese on crunchy bread deserved more than just a lofty puff of air. 

“Steph,” Ranger’s voice brought her back from her contemplation of pizza excellence. “Did you have Vinnie file a temporary bail enforcement license for you in Florida?” His hand drifted toward the phone he had clipped to his waist. “If not, I’ll have you added retroactively through Rangeman’s license, in case questions come up.” 

“Wait, what? Whoa,” she answered, finally figuring out what Ranger was implying. “I’ve been working as a waitress,” she intercepted his hand before he had a chance to engage with his phone. “I haven’t been rounding up skips in paradise.” 

“As a waitress?” he stopped, putting his phone on the table, his brows lowered as though they, all by themselves, were trying to lever discordant pieces of information into his mind. 

“Yeah, I’ve been filling in for my friend Ellie’s lunchtime shifts over at the Grouper Inn. Actually, I’m sort of auditioning for her whole lifestyle, seeing as how I’m living at her place and hanging out with her friends, too. It’s been pretty nice.” 

With no exploding cars, she thought, or crazy rabbit impersonators trying to kill her, or abductions of any kind. Or course, she knew better than to actually say any of that out loud lest she invoke a world class jinx. Instead she simply added, “I guess another question is: who knew that slinging fried fish sandwiches with bottles of Corona could be better than working for Vinnie?” 

She picked up her daiquiri with a slight wince. While she’d harbored that question for the past few weeks, this was the first time she’d said it out loud. And she knew it wasn’t really a question at all.  _ Yeah,  _ going back to Trenton was going to be a royal bummer. 

“I’ll take that as a rhetorical question,” Ranger murmured up as he reached for his soda water.

“That means you’re ignoring it, right?”

“No, it means I’m smart enough to not even try to answer it,” he sipped.

She snorted, reaching up to adjust her elf hat. 

Ranger reached for a celery twig and dipped it in hummus. “It seems like getting away from it all has been good for you,” he said.

“Yeah. It has,” she agreed, even if it had given her something to miss. And, given her a glance at a lifestyle that was just out of her reach. 

At that moment, Mindy reappeared with her daiquiri refill, along with another soda water for Ranger. Then she backed away with a reminder to just wave her over if they wanted anything else. 

Stephanie glanced again at the window. The night sky had overtaken the horizon. At this moment, moonless, the shore was illuminated by a patchwork of lights from the hotels and shops that ringed this part of the beach. Stars were visible, peppering the sky, mirrored by the occasional human-generated stars bobbing along offshore in the boats anchored to mooring buoys out in the deeper water. 

Movement brought Stephanie’s attention to Ranger’s reflection in the glass. Seeing him shift, she turned her attention back toward him.

“Why are you leaving on Christmas?” he asked.

“Like I told you, it’s the best flight I could find. I mean, I have to go back to reality sometime, right?” she shrugged. “But I won’t lie: some days I wish my airplane would never come and I could just stay here.” She nibbled her lip, wanting to voice something else she’d thought about a lot, but hadn’t really said to anyone yet. 

Then she looked up at Ranger and realized that, no matter what she said, he wouldn’t judge her. She picked up her drink for a bit of courage and took a sip. “I have this fantasy that I could somehow buy Ellie’s condo when she sells it in February. Or maybe that she would just rent it to me for way, way below market rate.” 

Putting down her drink, she started to trace circles where condensation had dripped onto the table’s oilcloth. “And, I don’t know, maybe I could start over.” 

She peeked up at Ranger, whose gaze was wholly focused on her. “Of course,” she blushed, “I knew I had a bit too much to drink the time I dreamt that the condo had a Christmas bow on the door, with the actress who played Cindy-Lou Who standing next to it in a red felt hat saying that sometimes you just get lucky.”

Ranger chuckled, but his brown eyes were warm, almost gentle. “But why is it just a fantasy?”

“Um, Cindy-Lou Who in a felt hat standing next to my door?”

“Not that part,” his full lips were still soft with amusement. “I meant the part about staying here. Starting over.” 

She exhaled. Ranger always knew exactly what question to ask. 

“Well, even I know it’s a fantasy,” she picked up her napkin and focused drying the tips of her fingers. “Right now I’m living large. I’m staying rent-free in a nice condo, bankrolled by Vinnie’s stupid-crime bond scofflaws so I can spend afternoons at the beach. Realistically, though, unless I could start using Monopoly money, there’s no way I could afford Ellie’s condo. Even if I could, moving down here wouldn’t be the luxury lifestyle I’ve been enjoying.” 

She didn’t add that, at least in Trenton, she could fall back to her parents for meals. In the absolute worst case, her high-school bedroom was still waiting for her, too. 

She looked again to his face, wondering at his intense expression. She was used to Ranger’s ability to focus, but wasn’t used to being the recipient of this particular, calculating look. 

Before she could ask what he was thinking, his phone vibrated on the table. He picked it up and Stephanie resigned herself to the likelihood that Ranger was about to leave. 

Instead, he surprised her. With a brief glance at the screen, he tapped it and put it into his pocket. “It’s work. It can wait,” he explained, likely spotting her confused expression. And Stephanie added  _ ignores his work phone  _ to her growing list of unusual Ranger moments.

After a moment, Ranger picked up his soda water. “You probably miss Joe, too.” He sipped, then added in a casual tone, “I imagine he had to go back early, despite the flights. Police business doesn’t wait,” he shrugged. 

Stephanie blinked, momentarily puzzled. “Joe didn’t come down with me.” Then it dawned on her. “Oh. I forgot you’ve been away for so long. Joe and I haven’t been together since maybe a month before Thanksgiving.”

“Oh,” he echoed her surprise. And there went those confused eyebrows again. 

Normally Stephanie would give herself a pat on the back for having stumped the Wizard, but not tonight. Instead, it brought to mind that it really had been a few months since she’d seen Ranger. She’d gotten used to him being gone, but she’d never stopped hoping that he was okay. 

Reaching out, she rested her fingers on his hand. “I’ve missed you, Ranger. How are you doing?”

He turned his hand, loosely squeezing her palm as it now sat in his. “Fine,” he replied with a single nod. His expression, though, reflected a more complex, unspoken answer. “It took some time, but getting away was good for me, too. Gave me a chance to think about things.” He shrugged. “To buy a new wardrobe.”

She chuckled. “Well, you know me. I have to endorse any lifestyle that includes the opportunity to shop for new clothes. So, you’re clearly living right.” She was cheered to see Ranger’s lips rise in amusement. She’d never tire of that. 

Unconsciously rubbing her thumb along his palm, she leaned forward. “If you don’t mind my asking, have you been able to spend time with Julie? Is she doing okay?”

He looked off into the distance. “Yeah, she’s why I’ve been here so long. She’s been struggling a bit. Bad dreams. She had a bit of difficulty getting back into being at school.” His paused for a sip of water. “I was supposed to go to Panama all this month on a job, but I decided it would be better to stay here. For her.”

His lips compressed. “Rachel says that having me here is helping. Since usually she’d rather pretend that I don’t exist, I have to imagine she’s telling me the truth.”

Stephanie tightened her grip on his hand, as though pressing her soul into his. “I’m sure it’s the truth. Besides, Julie’s your daughter, through and through,”she affirmed. “She probably knows that you, of all people, can really understand what she went through. You can show her how to be strong even after something so scary.” 

He blinked, refocusing his shadowed gaze on her as though there was nothing else in the room to see. “You would know as well as anyone, Babe,” his deep voice replied. Then he looked away again, taking another sip from his glass.

Feeling badly for taking Ranger into sad territory, she circled back to where she’d started. “I’m so glad you stopped by while I’m here. Do you live near here? I mean, when you’re in Miami?” 

“Not far.”

His silence stretched, masked by the increase in volume of other customers who had been slowly filling the restaurant as they’d sat. Behind it all, one of those jazzy Christmas songs from the Charlie Brown TV special played quietly like a sophisticated balm for the season. 

Just as she had resigned herself to hearing that Ranger’s official Miami address was a vacant lot in Miami, or maybe a parking garage in Hialeah, he shifted in his chair. “My house is just off North Beach, on the Bay side.” He paused a couple of breaths before adding. “About a half hour’s drive north from here when traffic is light. Though the Rangeman office is only about 15 minutes from here.” 

“Wow, and all this time I’ve been here, and didn’t even know,” she exclaimed in wonder. But then, she admitted that was used to living near Ranger but not seeing him for long stretches. 

This time it was Ranger’s turn to press his fingers comfortingly around her palm. “I guess I’ve been more out of touch than usual. It would’ve been nice to see you, but I honestly didn’t know you were in the Miami area.” With a gentle, quiet look, he added, “But I’m happy you have friends here.” 

She smiled. “Yeah, like I said they started out as Ellie’s friends. But I feel like I’ve known them for years. In fact, a couple of them will be here soon, after their jobs get out. You can meet them,” Stephanie perked up at the thought. Maybe they could become Ranger’s friends, too. 

Okay, she realized seconds later that this was a completely goofy thought.  _ Ranger the Special Ops sniper, I’d like you to meet Laurie the slightly chubby family-friendly tour guide and Ted the concierge and wanna-be piano bar dude. You have so much in common.  _

His lips relaxed. “You could be happy here, Steph. Friends. Places to shop. Nice weather. Plenty of jobs.” He paused. “Lots of places nicer than Pino’s Restaurant for your dates.” 

“Like that place you were last night?” she blurted before she was able to stop herself, her mouth getting ahead of her admittedly porous social filters. Once again she felt the warm flush of color rise up her neck. She really hadn’t intended to probe about his social life. Well, she really, really  _ wanted  _ to, but that didn’t mean she  _ should  _ do it. It was like looking through people’s medicine cabinets and night tables at an open house. Which of course one always did, but wasn’t supposed to do.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s none of my business.” She raised her daiquiri to her lips, though she didn’t take a sip this time. 

He pursed his lips ruefully. “I was actually thinking about the place  _ you _ were last night.” He squeezed her hand once more, then gently pulled away. “Your new boyfriend?” His voice was casual, his eyes trained on his newly liberated hand as he picked up his glass. 

_ Huh _ , Stephanie hadn’t expected that question. “What? No. At least I don’t think so.” She put down her glass and quickly sorted through her thoughts. “I think maybe Ted’s interested in me, but there’s no spark there.”  _ Not like I always felt with you _ , she thought. “But I’ve started to think that maybe a spark isn’t what’s needed, or that it’s the sort of thing that’s supposed to grow over time. LIke after you’ve known each other for a while. You know, like George and Izzie on  _ Grey’s Anatomy _ . They’re friends, nothing more, blah blah, and then holy cow, suddenly they’re in a relationship.” She squinted. “Though maybe that’s a bad example because they kinda didn’t have any chemistry together.”

For a split second, she could see Ranger laboring to extract meaning from her comments. 

“I’m not the right person to ask about that,” he finally said. “Is he kind? Does he help you and make you laugh? That’s what my older sister Celia used to ask me after I went on dates to help me figure out if I should go on another one.” 

He paused, then added with a smirk. “Of course, after she met my dates, she’d smack me on the head because apparently I never followed her advice.”

Stephanie laughed out loud. “I hope you’re doing better lately,” she commented, and found she really did mean it. “Or does Celia still smack you?” 

A wisp of a smile curved his lips. “Celia’s married now, up in Newark with her two boys. I think she saves her smacking skills for them.” He loosely splayed his fingers along the edge of the table. “But to answer your real question, relationships haven’t been my strength. It’s one of the things I’ve been really thinking about.” 

His lips thinned. “Habits are easy to fall back on. And hard to break. Being down here, though, has helped. Makes me think about how I’d fix some things I didn’t get right the first time. Seeing how much Julie needs me— and probably has needed me for a while….” he trailed off, then straightened. “It makes me think about what type of man I want to be, at this point in my life.” 

The ghost of an unpleasant thought passed over his face. Stephanie wondered, with a rush of caring, if maybe she was the person to whom Ranger could say things that he couldn’t share with anyone else. 

Then his expression lightened. “My family is all better at this type of thing than I am. Fortunately they’re bailing me out for Christmas.”

“You’re staying down here over the holidays?”

“Yeah, this year I flew my parents down from Newark. They’re staying with my brother’s family though the school holidays.” His eyes got a distant look. “Rafael and Linda— that’s my brother and his wife— just had another baby. My mom is in  _ abuelita _ heaven, between having a new baby to coo over and finally having a role in Julie’s life.” 

He exhaled in humor. “Of course, the holidays bring that out in her, anyway. My brother and I used to joke that Christmas Eve dinner is like my mom’s World Cup, so she’s probably completely taken over Linda’s kitchen to cook for Christmas Eve dinner. Though, thankfully, Tío Ernesto is roasting the pig at his place. Linda absolutely refused to have the roaster in her backyard.” He shrugged. “Actually, can’t blame her for that.”

Stephanie’s imagination served an image of a middle-aged woman dressed like Helen Plum but with Ranger’s features, slathering a ginormous ham with sugar glaze, or maybe a whole pig with an apple in its mouth. All while standing guard over a half dozen mixing bowls with an oversized wooden spatula and an early glass of Christmas sherry. 

Ranger looked up, bringing her back to the present. “Speaking of Christmas, Steph, do you need a ride to the airport on Christmas day?” 

  
“Ranger,” she exclaimed. “You just told me how your family came all the way down here to be with you for Christmas. Now you’re already bailing on them to drive me to the airport? Sheesh.” Her hands flew up in a what-the-heck gesture. “You need a virtual Celia to smack your head right this minute.” 

_ Wait, was that a self-conscious laugh?  _ No, she decided. Probably Ranger was simply amused at her New Jersey temper. 

“Not to worry, Babe. We’re Cuban. We celebrate on Christmas Eve.  _ La nochebuena _ ,” he restated in Spanish. “Christmas Eve is the family dinner, gifts, and so forth. And, at least in my family, Christmas morning is for taking the  _ abuelos  _ to mass. And then lots of naps disguised as watching TV or playing video games.” 

She squinted at the improbable image of Ranger watching TV or taking a nap in the middle of the day. 

Then he shrugged. “Actually, my family is used to me being at work on Christmas day, like on other holidays. I have enough people covering this year, though, that I can easily get away for an hour or two.”

_ That’s right,  _ she remembered, now.  _ That  _ was why she couldn’t imagine him taking time off to goof around on Christmas day. She’d always been able to find him at Rangeman on Christmas, New Years, Easter, Fourth of July… and all the other holidays when he could work so his employees could be with family. It was odd, though, to realize that this year he’d be at the Rangeman office in Miami. Even if she stopped by the Trenton office, he still wouldn’t be there. 

She reached for her glass, lifting it thoughtfully while she pondered his offer. She would love to spend more time with Ranger before she left, even if it was just a drive to the airport. At the same time, she’d vowed that she didn’t want to be someone who Ranger felt he had to swoop in to rescue, anymore. Unless she really needed it, of course. 

And, she had to be honest. She didn’t need to be rescued from the holiday rideshare to the airport urgently enough to take Ranger away from his responsibilities. He wasn’t retired, like her dad, with time on his hands and looking for an excuse to get out of the house.

Probably seeing the doubt in her expression, he tipped his head in a gesture she recognized as compromise. “Just think about it, Steph. I’ll check with you beforehand, in case you’d like a ride.” 

“Okay,” she agreed. Before she had a chance to continue, Ranger straightened in his chair. She recognized that ‘be aware of your surroundings’ posture.

“Are those your friends, Steph?” She followed the line of his pointed gaze to see her friend Laurie walking up the path, outside, along with her roommate Elaine. And, a bit further away, Ted was getting out of his unmistakable mint-green Chevy.

“Yup, they’re mine,” she smiled. “Normally I’d say that the festive North Pole headgear and the flashy Christmas light necklace would be dead giveaways that they’re with me. But, looking around the restaurant, I’d have to adopt a fair number of additional people if that was true.”

The corners of Ranger’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Stay for another few weeks, Babe. They’ll all be yours.” 

She snorted, then shivered at the brush of chilled air from the restaurant’s door. Reaching behind herself for her sweater, she grabbed for a sleeve just as the whole thing slipped down the chair’s backrest. 

Ranger stood. “Here let me help,” he murmured, moving behind her, his broad hands barely touching her as he rescued her sweater. Then, while she remained seated, he helped her put it on, sleeve by sleeve, as though it were a coat.  _ Ranger is still the Wizard _ , she smiled. Able to pick off a dangerous gunman in the dark; able to wrangle a sweater into a wearable garment around a chair back, armrests, and a purse strap.

He stepped beside her, leaving one palm on the back of her chair. “I should go, Babe,” he said. 

“No, stay. At least let me introduce you,” she reached up to cover the back of his hand with her fingers. She sighed; probably he had to go meet his actual dinner date at another restaurant. But he was still her friend, and the well-known  _ Stephanie Plum Transitive Property of Friendship  _ meant that he now had four new friends on the way to her table. Even if it was goofy to imagine them hanging out together. 

He shifted his weight. Then, in a burst that would have seemed impulsive if spoken by anyone else, he said, “Do you have plans for tomorrow evening?” As she shook her head “no,” he added, “Come to Christmas Eve with my family.” His eyes traveled to their joined hands. “Julie will be there. I think she’d really like to see you.”

Her eyes darted to his in surprise. But then, she’d already met Ranger’s father at the hospital after Scrog. And Celia, one of his sisters. 

“You’ve never invited me to meet your family before.”

“I mentioned that I’m trying new things.” He paused with an expression she wasn’t sure how to interpret, then looked into her eyes. “I’d like it if you were there.”

“Well then, I’d like that, too,” She beamed, releasing his hand to open her phone’s calendar. “Count me in. What time? What’s the address?” 

“Hey Stephie!” her friend Lauren called breathlessly from the arch leading into the room. 

She turned to peer around Ranger, then beckoned with her free hand. “Over here.” 

Ranger’s lips lifted in an actual smile. “I can pick you up. It’ll be later in the afternoon, but I’ll have to get you the details tomorrow morning.” 

“Okay, I’m looking forward to it,” Stephanie replied breathlessly.

“I’ll be in touch, Steph,” he leaned to murmur in her ear. Then, Laurie and Elaine arrived at the table. After brief introductions and a nod at each woman, Ranger turned and made his way toward the door. It was all so quick that Stephanie pinched her leg, once again, to make sure she was awake and hadn’t imagined the whole conversation with Ranger. And yup,  _ ouch _ again; it had been real.

“Stephie,” Laurie said breathlessly as she sat. “Whoa. Are you holding out on us? Who was  _ that _ ?” 

“Yeah,” Elaine sat across from her, eyes wide. “No kidding. Who  _ was _ that?” 

“Ranger is one of my best friends from New Jersey,” Stephanie replied through giggles that threatened to break loose. It was like being in high-school, comparing boys with her bestie Mary Lou. “Neither of us knew, until now, that the other one was here in the Miami area.”

“Oh baby, you need to keep in much better touch with someone who looks like that.” Laurie said.

Elaine added, “No engagement or wedding ring, I looked. Because when you see a man like that, you gotta check out the particulars.” 

“True that,” Laurie affirmed. And, as Ted walked up to the table and sat in the chair Ranger had recently vacated, Laurie leaned over and murmured, “And you can bet I’ll be calling you tomorrow, Stephie, for more details. Get ready.” 

“So, what did I miss?” Ted asked. After a shared, flustered glance, Stephanie and her friends started sharing what they’d done during the day. Before long, they were deep into stories about home, their families’ typical holiday dinners, and other topics of the season. As voices in the bar picked up, singing along to the bouncy  _ All I Want For Christmas Is You.  _ Mindy the waitress reappeared. And once again, Stephanie had an excellent view of Mindy’s hair and the knot in the back of her server apron. 

_ Well, huh _ . She sat back in her chair, realizing that she didn’t mind this time. Not even a little bit. 

_ To be continued… _


	4. Bachata en Navidad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story disclaimers and background can be found at the start of Chapter 1.

_ Note: Though I try to make it clear in the chapter, Rafi is a nickname for Rafael. Mima is a Cuban term for Grandma, along with Abuela and Abuelita. Also, Pipo is Grandpa. When I was growing up, my Cuban neighbors used those all the time.  _

* * *

**Chapter 4: Bachata en Navidad**

This was the first actual Mañoso house that Stephanie had seen, and it was striking. Two stories tall with stucco walls, terracotta roofing, and large arched windows, it was both Spanish and modern at the same time. And, it had a rather ample attached garage.  _ Well, all of that obviously runs in the family, Stephanie mused as she walked up the path next to Ranger, shopping bag of last-minute gifts swinging from her hand.  _

“You all set, Babe?” Ranger looked over, his expression partly camouflaged by the flower arrangement that he was carrying for her. She actually hadn’t been nervous during the ride from her temporary condo. After all, she had been with Ranger, driving cocooned in the leather and luxury of one of his apparently endless number of black Porsche Cayennes. “It’s showtime,” he added with the hint of a wink.

And, with that, she lost the apprehension that had been fluttering like captive moths in her stomach as they’d gotten closer to the house. “Yup. Let’s do this, Batman,” she answered, and was rewarded by the guarded amusement she spied beneath his lifted brow. 

He stepped onto the stoop, giving her a fine view of how nicely today’s tailored black slacks and royal blue polo fit. No tactical belt, although Stephanie was sure he was discreetly armed to the hilt. A warrior dressed to infiltrate suburban family life. 

As always, she marveled at how all sides of Ranger were muscular, though well proportioned. And she realized that her phone was packed deep in her purse, so not available for a quick, unobtrusive photo. Clearly she needed to be better prepared. 

He paused to tap the doorbell, but the door opened from the inside as soon as he reached for the knob. A man the same height as Ranger filled the gap. “Welcome back, Bro’,” he said with a smile. It was clear to Stephanie that this was Ranger’s brother; he had the same smile and similar features, though was perhaps 15 pounds heavier with wavy hair. 

“Come on in,” he backed up, gesturing them into the sunny foyer. “And you must be Stephanie,” he continued, his smile broadened even further, “Welcome! I’m Rafael, Carlos’s older, better looking brother.” 

“Nice to meet you, Rafael,” Stephanie smiled.

“Better looking? In your dreams, Hermano,” Ranger replied with a trademark smirk as he relinquished Stephanie’s bouquet to his brother’s beckoning arms. 

“Oh Carlos,” Rafael nudged his younger brother with his shoulder. “You got me all my favorite flowers,” he winked at Stephanie. Ignoring the dart of Ranger’s glower, he continued. “Of course, these must be from you, Stephanie. They really are beautiful, thank you. My wife Linda will really like them.” 

“Let me see,” a woman who was obviously Rafael’s sister commented, sliding behind him. “Oh, nice flowers!” she affirmed. “Hi, I’m Ariana, their sister. I’m so glad to meet you, Stephanie. We’ve heard so much about you.” 

“I swear that the funeral home blowing up wasn’t my fault,” Stephanie rushed to say as she shook Ariana’s outstretched hand. “Well, it kinda was. But it was really my Grandma Mazur.” 

Ranger murmured in her ear, “I’ve said it before, Steph: you come from a long line of scary women.” Then, straightening, he added for the others, “Actually, Stephanie and her grandmother— whose handgun should definitely be confiscated— broke up an operation that used coffins and a funeral home to smuggle guns from an Army weapons depot.” 

“Wow, New Jersey is still weird. I definitely don’t miss it,” Ariana shook her head. 

“It has its charms,” Ranger commented quietly, head tilted as he gazed at Stephanie. Then he lifted her shopping bag, handing it to Ariana. “Steph, let me take your jacket.” 

He took the lightweight, cloth overcoat she’d borrowed from her friend Ellie’s closet and hung it on one of the hooks near the door. Full of different sized jackets, hats, and umbrellas, it was a far cry from the tidy, minimalist entryway in Ranger’s Trenton apartment. Seeing Ranger hang her coat in the middle of the sprawl of outerwear was momentarily disorienting, as though she were watching a tiger deciding to hunker down and take a slurpy drink of saucer milk. 

Then he turned back to her, smirk in place and, of course, she wondered if she’d actually said that out loud. Eyebrow drifting upward above amused eyes, he simply said, “Let’s head into the living room.” 

As Ranger rested his hand lightly on her back, Ariana peeked into her shopping bag. “Oh, are these presents?” 

“Ranger said you exchange gifts tonight, so I wanted to bring a few things,” Stephanie said.

“You’re so nice! For us, having both Julie and you here tonight is the gift to our family. So, whatever you brought will be like icing on the cake.” Then she winked. “But we’ll put these around the tree for later tonight anyway, because everyone knows that icing is the best part of the cake.” 

“So true,” Stephanie affirmed with a sigh as they walked into the next room. Possibly Ranger was the only one in his family who didn’t understand the hierarchy of food groups, with cake and icing clearly being among the building blocks of the pyramid. Ariana’s reaction gave her hope for Ranger. She smiled at the memory of him actually taking bites from the birthday cake she’d brought after he’d gotten out of the hospital. 

Her recollections dispersed like smoke when she entered the living room, which was dominated by a huge, slightly crooked Christmas tree.  _ Feliz Navidad _ played quietly in the background as Ranger’s daughter Julie stood up from the coffee table. The girl’s observant expression resolved quickly into a hesitant smile. “Stephanie. Ranger really did manage to talk you into coming today.” 

“Ranger didn’t have to talk me into anything; I wanted to be here,” she replied. Then, as she took a step toward the slim girl, arms open in greeting, Julie’s reserve fell away. She bounded over to Stephanie and snaked her arms around her. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said into Stephanie’s sweater. 

“Me too,” Stephanie wrapped Ranger’s daughter in a hug. “I mean, I’m so glad you’re okay. I think about you, and I’m really happy that I got to be here today to see you.” 

Julie pushed back to look at her with dark brown eyes that were more shadowed than Stephanie recalled. She seemed about to say something, but then pulled back to stand between her and Ranger, eyes flicking between each of them. 

“See Jules, I told you,” Ranger said. 

“I know, you always keep your promises,” she affirmed in a firm voice. 

Ranger nodded, leaning down to murmur something to his daughter as he brushed a lock of long, mahogany hair behind her shoulders. Seeing a gentle smile soften his features, Stephanie felt a beat of joy rise from her heart. 

“Hey, nice flowers,” a young, short-haired woman with Ranger’s straight brow and eyes spoke up from a large, sectional sofa.

“Stephanie, this is my sister Reina,” Ranger gestured toward the seated woman. 

“Hi Stephanie,” she smiled as she grabbed for a squirming toddler on her lap. “And this is Richie, Rafi’s eldest.” She wiped his hands with a cloth. “Say ‘Hi Stephanie’.”

“Hi Teffie,” the boy looked over his shoulder at her, then back at Reina, who handed him a sippy cup. 

Rafael chuckled, “Just a second and I’ll take my son off your hands.” He turned to give the flowers back to Ranger.

“Ah, it’s all good,” Reina said. “I’m living large, here, sharing apple juice and knocking blocks over.” She continued, grabbing Richie’s cup before it went upside-down along with the boy, who was now arching backward on her lap. “Oh, the fun we’d have if I lived down here in Miami,” she buzzed his tummy with her lips. 

“I bet you could persuade Linda and Rafi to adopt you,” Ariana snorted over the sounds of Richie’s whoop and Reina’s laughter. 

Rafael’s brow rose in suspiciously Ranger-like calculation. “Reina, you could move into the sewing room. I can make that happen.” 

Ariana continued his thought. “You could be like a house elf and give up paralegal school for the joys of  _ Dinosaur Train  _ on TV. Which I can’t believe you actually watched together for two hours.”

Her sister scoffed while wrangling the squirming boy on her lap. “Come on, like we didn’t watch  _ Barney  _ when we were little. Purple dinosaur, orange dinosaur. Paralegally, I rest my case.” 

While Ranger’s sisters quibbled, Julie quietly wrapped her fingers around Stephanie’s hand. Looking down, Stephanie couldn’t help her grin as she saw Julie roll her eyes in the best New Jersey style.  _ That’s my gal, _ she preened. 

While Rafael drifted over to his sister and son on the sofa, Ranger turned to Stephanie. “Ready to meet my folks?”

“I was born ready,” she replied, enjoying the twinkle of amusement she spied in his eyes. “You know me, Ranger. Families I can deal with.” She paused. “As long as they don’t expect me to go to the gun range after dinner.”

His lips quirked. “I guess I’ll have to find a different Christmas gift.” 

“You guys are so lame,” Julie muttered, pulling on Stephanie’s hand while she reached up to Ranger’s arm. “They’re all in the kitchen.”

Stephanie followed as Julie pulled them forward, passing an upright piano with an elaborate nativity arranged along the top, looking as though a whole neighborhood had been transported in miniature from Bethlehem. Above it was a wall full of family photos, which she was  _ definitely  _ coming back to look at later. She made a mental note to also try to clandestinely peruse the DVD collection, where she was sure she could see  _ Scrooged _ on the top of the rack along with  _ Elf _ . This was very promising, indeed.

They entered the large, modern kitchen, with bowls and platters everywhere. A blonde woman about Stephanie’s age turned toward them while burping an infant over her shoulder. 

Ranger stepped forward. “Stephanie, this is Linda, my brother Rafael’s wife,” Ranger said. He placed the flower vase on the island counter, adding, “And these are from Stephanie.” 

“They’re my thank you for including me, tonight,” she hastened to add as Ranger returned to her side, now between her and Julie. She felt the warmth of his palm settle along her hip, his arm wrapped loosely around her.

Linda smiled. “They’re beautiful Stephanie, thank you. We’re glad to have you,” she stepped closer, then tilted her head toward her baby. “This sleepyhead is our little Zoe.” Without interrupting her baby rhythm, she freed her arm to reach out to shake Stephanie’s hand. 

Stephanie replied as a handsome middle-aged woman with chestnut hair emerged from a room adjacent to the kitchen. She had no doubt that this was Ranger’s mother; she had the same full lips and elegant, straight nose. And the same 100-watt smile, though hers obviously got a lot more use than her son’s. She felt Ranger straighten next to her, but before he had a chance to speak, his mother spoke up.

“You don’t need to introduce us, Carlito. Of course, this is Stephanie. It’s lovely to meet you at last,” she smiled, wiping her hands on a towel as she hurried over. “I’m Carlito’s mother, but please call me Alma. Or Mama Alma,” she appended with a mischievous flash in her eyes. 

Before Stephanie could reply, she found herself enveloped in the older woman’s arms. She discovered that the Mañoso maternal hug was as generous and strong as the woman’s smile. And, she also learned that she could call Ranger’s mother ‘Mrs. Mañoso’ if she absolutely must, though that seemed so very impersonal. But it was okay if that was what Stephanie preferred. 

She felt the subterranean rumble of Ranger’s amusement. “Mama, let Stephanie breathe.”

Meanwhile, Julie had drifted to the counter and was peeking in a half-covered dish. “Ranger, are these the turtles your grandmother made for dessert?” 

“ _ Turrones _ , sweetheart,” Alma turned toward her granddaughter, correcting her gently, with a smile. “Carlito’s Abuelita _ , _ his grandmother, always baked Christmas  _ turrones  _ for the big  _ Nochebuena _ meal when her children and grandchildren were small. So, she insisted on baking them again this year, to celebrate that you’re with us tonight.” 

She re-covered the dish, winking at Julie. “Be sure to save some room.” She peeked sideways at her son. “I know your father, Carlito, will save room. Christmas  _ turrones _ were his favorite when he was your age. I think they still are.” 

Stephanie turned her head so quickly to look at Ranger that worried briefly that her brains might have shifted inside her head due to the speed.  _ Ranger had a favorite dessert?  _

He simply shrugged, lips tipped in amusement. “You’ll like them, Babe,” he murmured close to her ear. “They’re basically honey and almond nougats. My family always had them back in Cuba.” 

_ Oh. Cuban Bit-O-Honey _ , she thought as the sweet Halloween flavor drizzled her memory.  _ Cuban Almond Joy _ , her imagination pitched in with enthusiasm. 

Again, she felt Ranger’s silent laughter telegraphed through the movement of his hand, which again had reached loosely around her waist. “Your enjoyment will make my old Abuelita very happy, trust me.” 

As he spoke, his sister Ariana enter the room. “Speaking of… Mama, where  _ is _ Mima anyway? She’s the reason we have old-people’s Latin Christmas on the stereo. If she’s busy, can we please change to something else?”

Ranger’s mother gestured toward a doorway at the end of the room. “Right now, your Abuelita is in the garage, supervising your father and Tío Ernesto now that they’re back from Tío’s place with the roasted pig.” With a hint of wickedness, she added, “Your Papa is the one who agreed with Tío to do a real _cerdo asado—_ that is, to roast a pig ourselves— for tonight’s dinner. For the first time in twenty years, I might add. So, Mima and I decided he might need some extra... _direction…_ when getting it ready for the dinner table.” 

“And they’re in the garage because I absolutely will not have that huge roasting pan in my kitchen. Or, on my patio,” Linda piped up from the corner, where she was settling her daughter in a portable bassinet. 

“And I agree,” Ranger’s mother said with a sparkle in her eyes balanced by the prim set to her lips. “So, your Papa and Tío Ernesto are in the garage with your Abuelita.”

“Papa’s not in the garage,” Ariana chortled. “He’s in the doghouse.” 

“Well, he may think so,” Ranger’s mother acknowledged. “But really, even though your Papa volunteered, he doesn’t actually know first-hand how to wrangle Cuban style  _ cerdo asado _ for a family dinner. We’ve always done  _ Nochebuena Norteamericana _ up in New Jersey. But your Abuelita remembers how to do it right.” She wrinkled her nose. “And frankly none of us quite trust that her brother Ernesto will get it right on his own.” 

“It’s so much work, so why are we doing it?” Ariana asked. “Rafi and I even live here in Miami fulltime now and we never do roast pig.”

“Honey, you and Rafi’s family are usually up with us in New Jersey for the holiday,” Mrs. Mañoso murmured.

At the same time, Linda said, “Rafi told me that your Tío insisted on the pig for a Cuban-style welcome since the family is here in ‘Havana del Norte,’ this year. Rafi and I both voted against it. Yet, here we are, with a roaster in our garage.”

“Have me talk with Tío, next time, and we won’t have this problem,” Ranger muttered. 

“Probably a good idea,” Ariana pitched in from the counter where she’d started to line up mangoes to be cut. “Tío is pretending he doesn’t speak English, again.” 

“Hey Carlos, if we stay down here again next year, you could have dinner at your place,” Linda commented from where she was tucking covers in the bassinet. “Rafi says that you’ve got the space at your North Beach house.” 

“Not likely,” Ranger said. Meanwhile his sister Ariana and their mother looked at each other with decidedly speculative expressions. Linda looked as though she was planning how to pick up and move dinner to Ranger’s house. 

Then Ranger’s mother shrugged. “Carlito, why don’t you go out and see how they’re doing. And retrieve your Abuelita from the garage. I’m sure she’ll want to meet Stephanie and spend more time with Julie, too.” 

He glanced around the room, then turned toward Stephanie. “Will you be okay for a bit?” At her affirmative nod, he stepped toward his daughter, placing his hand on her shoulder. “And you, Jules?” 

Muttering “Overprotective much?” Julie reminded him that she’d been perfectly fine the whole time he’d been away to pick up Stephanie, and that he was basically leaving her with his own family. In his brother’s house. That probably had a security system wired directly to a giant monitor at Rangeman. And maybe to the Pentagon also.

“Good points,” Ranger’s eyes crinkled in humor as he pulled his daughter gently toward him in an awkward hug, and then nodded. “Be right back,” he said.

In the wake of Ranger’s absence, Stephanie could hear the sounds of toddler enjoyment from the living room punctuating the holiday music. The tune she recognized as  _ Silent Night, _ though it was a guitar arrangement rather than the accustomed orchestration. And, it was being sung in Spanish. 

Which made it familiar yet also new, like a gift just for tonight. It was like when she’d been a girl, feeling the holiness of the season and its majesty filling the house with the scent of balsam and rum candy. And, at the same time, waiting for the wonder of the crisp Christmas morning in pajamas, surrounded by wrapping paper and ribbons. With a whole new year about to begin. 

She wondered if that was what little Richie was feeling right now, in his exuberant glee. Family all around; songs and warmth; promise in the air. 

Then she noticed that Julie had quietly scooted next to her. Probably she was a bit too skittish to feel childlike wonder in this year when everything had changed. Possibly she missed it. 

“Hey kiddo,” Stephanie half-whispered, putting her arm around the slim girl’s shoulder. Julie looked at her with a vague smile and then shrugged, apparently content to simply be near someone she knew. Stephanie, familiar with that feeling, was pleased to be that ‘someone’ for Julie. 

Looking up, she noted that Ariana had started cutting fruit into a bowl while Ranger’s mother bustled at the stove. “Can we help you with anything?” Stephanie asked. 

“No, that’s fine, just keep us company.” Ranger’s mother motioned Julie and Stephanie to barstools along the other side of the counter. “I’m so glad that Carlito invited you both tonight. As everyone gets older, we don’t get together as much. Linda is so kind to let us invade her house for the holidays.” 

“Hey, it’s all good since everyone else is doing the work,” the blonde replied, still hovering over her resting baby. 

“Thanks for adding me at the last minute,” Stephanie said. “It was nice that Ranger invited me; he’s usually so private. Probably it’s because I know Julie, but anyway it’s really good to meet you all.”

“My brother can’t be that dense,” Ariana mumbled. “Even if he has both you and his own daughter calling him ‘Ranger’. He’s such a dork sometimes.” 

“He has everyone call him by his street name,” Stephanie rose to his defense. He does it to protect all of you.”

“Still, his daughter should be able to call him by his real name.” Ariana stopped chopping as she switched her attention to Julie. “You don’t have to, of course, but it would melt the sappy, romantic hearts of all the women in the family if you called him ‘Papa Carlos’ at dinner tonight. And we might even get to see our big, macho brother blush.” 

Julie looked down, lips pulled, as she murmured, “I don’t want to embarrass him.” 

_ Poor kid, _ Stephanie thought. If only she had the advantage of being from New Jersey, where embarrassment was redundant. Unused and mostly forgotten, it was like the easily removed and not-missed appendix of emotions. Even her own mother’s desire to avoid gossip wasn’t about embarrassment. Instead, it was about staying under the radar, as though she’d spent her entire life practicing to go into Witness Protection. 

Since Julie wasn’t fortunate enough to have that New Jersey emotional inoculation, Stephanie pulled her close. “Oh sweetie, absolutely nothing  _ you  _ do would ever embarrass your father _.  _ He’s so proud of you. Besides, he’s not easy to embarrass. Really, trust me on this. But, if you do want to call him something other than Ranger, just ask him beforehand,” She paused to look meaningfully at Ariana. “Just ask him when you’re alone, and go with what he says. That way he’ll be prepared for when you next say it around other people.” 

Leaning over, she half-whispered, “And remember, no matter what name he prefers, it’s just a name. Everyone in Trenton calls him Ranger— even I do— so that’s normal to him.” 

“Okay, that makes sense.” Julie twitched, loosening Stephanie’s hold. In her periphery, she caught Ranger’s mother looking warmly at the two of them. 

Then the older woman turned to her daughter. “Ariana, honey, we have to let Carlito do things at his own pace.” The older woman paused, pointing with a wooden spoon in a gesture that Stephanie immediately recognized. Apparently mothers everywhere corrected their children with food-covered kitchen implements. “It’s enough that he invited us all to come together this holiday season.” 

She turned to look at Julie. “And Carlito has already given me the best Christmas gift already: the chance to spend time with Julie, the beautiful girl who made me an abuela.” Her smile was the Mañoso 100-watt variety, so broad that it even made Julie smile back. 

“What does that mean?” Julie whispered discreetly through her smile at Stephanie.

“I think you were her first grandchild, so you’ll always be special,” Stephine leaned down to whisper back, seeing comprehension dawn on her face. 

At that moment, Linda and Rafael’s toddler son Richie scrambled into the kitchen like an arm-waving puppy. 

“Oh no, it’s the burrito song, again” Ariana sighed as the sound of a bouncy song with children’s voices echoed from the living room.

“A Christmas song about Mexican food?” Julie asked, squinting.

“No, it’s a children’s song about a kid going to see the Baby Jesus in Bethlehem with his little burro. It’s one of those goofy earworm songs like  _ Little Drummer Boy _ that gets played way more often than it should.” 

“Ants, ants,” Richie cried with an exuberant smile, practically falling as he ran with hands akimbo. 

His mother, Linda, laughed as she moved from the bassinet to intercept her son. “That’s ‘dance, dance’ to you and me,” she explained, grabbing her son around the waist. “He loves this Christmas song; I guess they played it at his daycare. Whenever it comes on, he has to dance. We did this in the grocery store yesterday, too.” She set her son back down and, hand-in-hand, started swaying back and forth with him. 

Richie then freed one of his hands and held it out. “Ants, Ooo-eee,” he looked at Julie who leaned back in her stool, arms crossed. “Ants, Teffie,” he switched his focus to Stephanie. 

She chuckled, then leaned down to take the boy’s small, warm hand in hers. “You’ll have to show me how to do this dance,” she said. But she quickly discovered that spending time with her own nieces had apparently been good practice, because she was a natural at the Weebles-wobble toddler dance. 

The song bounced along to its end, at which point Richie released his dance partners’ hands and giggled, pinwheeling in place. Linda reached down and caught him as he started to lose balance, swooping him up into her arms.

“I see you started the party without me,” Ranger deadpanned from the doorway to the garage. 

“It’s your nephew; he’s a party animal,” Stephanie snorted in reply, pushing a stray lock of curls back behind her ear. Next to her, Linda was now bounce-dancing with her son in her arms to another upbeat holiday song from the living room. 

Ranger’s eyebrow floated upward, and he appeared about to respond when the door opened beside him. This time Ranger’s father entered, proudly holding a large foil roasting pan that was presumably filled with neatly carved rounds of pork loin. He was followed by a much older man— the infamous Tío Ernesto— head held high, brandishing a large carving fork like a trident or pointed scepter. 

The parade of heroes returning victoriously from the roast pork wars was cut short as Ranger plucked the fork from the older man’s hand with a practiced move. At the older man’s affronted look, Ranger muttered something in Spanish with an austere expression, causing the old man to look heavenward. 

Meanwhile Ranger’s father spotted her. “Stephanie,” his eyes lit up. “You made it. Carlos said he’d invited you but we weren’t sure you could come on such short notice.” He walked over to the counter, placing the foil pan in front of his wife with a flourish, eliciting a laugh, and then turned back to Stephanie. “It’s so nice to see both you and Julie here, under much happier circumstances,” he smiled, alluding to their time together earlier this year in the hospital waiting room during Ranger’s surgery. 

“It’s good to see you too, Mr. Mañoso,” she replied.

“My uncle and I need to clean up, but we’ll be back shortly,” he said, though first he retrieved the carving fork from Ranger and rested it on the counter. As Ranger’s father led Tío Ernesto away, a small woman with steel gray hair arrived from the garage. Her nearly obsidian eyes gleamed as she took stock of the room. 

Then she put her slim hand on Ranger’s arm. “Carlito  _ mío _ ,” her low, melodious voice belied her obvious age. She continued in Spanish for a moment, speaking too quickly for Stephanie to pick out words, other than Ranger’s name, Julie’s and hers. After Ranger replied something in the voice that Stephanie inwardly called “Ranger being smooth,” the old woman’s eyes glinted at the same time she slapped her grandson’s arm with surprising vigor. 

_ And here’s the infamous Abuelita _ , Stephanie thought. She’d almost expected Ranger’s grandmother to have a cape, or maybe her own theme music. Instead, it was no surprise when something shifted outside, making the end-of-day sunlight stream in from the backyard window to illuminate the deceptively small, elderly woman in her own spotlight.

“Stephanie, this is my grandmother, Abuelita Mañoso,” Ranger said. 

“Pleased to meet you,” she replied, feeling oddly like she should curtsy. Well, that is, if she actually knew how. 

Immediately, Abuelita’s wrinkled face transformed into a smile and she stepped over. “Estephanie,” she greeted in a heavily accented voice. “Is good I meet you finally.  _ Bienvenida, m’ija. _ ” Only a little taller than Stephanie was when seated at the counter, the old woman embraced her and then kissed her fiercely on each cheek. 

Hands on Stephanie’s shoulder, she continued in rapidfire Spanish. She then backed away so both Julie and Stephanie were in her gaze. She smiled again, nodded, then turned toward Ranger, her voice sounding more like a barked series of orders rather than conversation. 

Stephanie had never before seen Ranger’s face with the expression that passed quickly across his features as his Abuelita spoke. In anyone else she might describe it as “temporary deer in the headlights,” but this was Ranger. So, obviously it was something else. 

Julie’s brow was furrowed, but her tilted head telegraphed that she hadn’t understood the brisk Spanish, either. Ranger’s mother had a satisfied smile on her face, while his sister Ariana’s lips were slightly agape. Rafael’s wife Linda simply shrugged when Stephanie caught her eyes. 

Ranger approached. “She’s welcoming you, Steph. And she’s glad that our family has finally met you.” At the old woman’s darted, lowering frown, he straightened with an inhale and added, “The rest of what she said is directed at me. I’ll give you the gist, later.” 

“Okay,” she agreed to wait, then turned to his Abuelita. “I’m really glad to meet you, too. And really grateful to be invited for the  _ Nochebuena _ dinner,” she stumbled over the word, though she noted the approval in the old woman’s sharp eyes. 

Reaching out to hug the dark-haired girl seated next to her, Stephanie added, “And I’m so happy to see Julie again, too. Thank you,” she included Ranger’s mother as she finished. “ _ Gracias _ ,” she repeated, proud that she knew that word. At the same time, she was disappointed in herself that friendship with Ranger hadn’t motivated her to learn more of the language. 

_ Okay, New Year’s resolution number one _ :  _ learn some Spanish _ . __

The old woman’s hands squeezed Stephanie’s arms as she smiled, proving that the wrinkles around her eyes had been furrowed by years of amusement. “ _ Gracias a ti también.  _ Thanking you also,” she said. 

Releasing Stephanie, she turned to Ranger. As though to cement Stephanie’s resolution, the old woman started reeling out Spanish even more quickly than before. She reached out a wrinkled finger and started waving it at her much taller grandson, and Stephanie decided it was probably a good thing that she had no clue what was being said.

After a moment, Ranger’s mother spoke. “Ariana, can you please take Julie and Stephanie to make sure the table is all set?” 

Looking down at Julie’s wide eyes, Stephanie recognized the wisdom in the plan. “Come on, Julie,” she took Ranger’s daughter’s hand. 

“ _ Mima _ ,” Stephanie heard Ranger’s voice, which was immediately overrun by the old woman’s continuing stream of words. Then Ranger interrupted again, “ _ Por eso la invité. _ ” 

Stephanie took one more peek; maybe Ranger needed someone by his side. But though his expression was unusually mulish, he nodded at her with a quirk of a smile. “Go ahead. I’ll join you in a moment.” 

“Okay,” Stephanie agreed and only then followed Ariana. Instead of turning right to the living room, they turned left into the dining room. Back in the kitchen, she heard Ranger’s mother also pipe up. “Mima!” she heard, followed by other, muffled words in Spanish rising to her son’s defense. 

In the dining room, Ranger’s other sister Reina had already arranged place settings on the table, which had obviously been extended to its full length. The piano bench had been brought in to add extra seating, along with a couple of unmatched high-backed chairs. Basically, it was an elegant upgrade to the way her Grandma Plum had created a dining room out of mis-matched furniture for the holidays when she had been a child.   


“Hey Stephanie and Julie, welcome to our family, for real,” Reina smirked while folding cloth napkins into restaurant-style wings.

Julie’s gaze cut back toward the kitchen. “I think it was a bad idea for me to come for the holiday,” she pulled her hand away, crossing her arms. 

“Oh no, not at all,” Ariana rested her palms on the girl’s thin shoulders. “You’re being here is the best idea, ever. We’re just like all families, and sometimes disagree. But we’re so comfortable having you here that, oops yeah, we’re not on our best behavior.”

Stephanie exhaled; it was actually a relief to know that Ranger’s family had quirks. She’d long ago decided that her family wasn’t the only one with a streak of ‘crazy’ running just below the surface. But she’d worried that Ranger’s family might be more perfect than most. 

Reina continued explaining to Julie, “Your father lived with our grandparents for a couple years when he was in high school. Mima forgets he’s all grown up, now. She still treats him like the boy he was back then. And I guess he needed a lot of scolding.” 

Ariana snorted, “We all did, according to Mima. “Those of us who live down here, now, are grateful that she decided to move up to Newark when old Pipo Ricardo passed away.” 

“Be careful and don’t jinx yourself,” Reina put down her final napkin. “If Carlos moves down here, she might come along. Giving you and Rafi so many more opportunities to get scolded in person.” 

“Ranger is moving to Miami?” Stephanie steadied her voice as she spoke.

“Um,” Reina looked quickly at her sister. “We don’t really know what Carlos is planning to do. That would require, like, actually telling us his plans ahead of time. Which apparently is  _ so  _ not the Army Ranger way. When they taught them to say nothing when captured by the enemy, it seems that also seemed to include being asked questions by your family.” 

“Be nice to your brother,” Ranger’s father slid behind Stephanie in the doorway. She felt Ariana jump in surprise. “Remember, he’s still older and sneakier than all of you, and can still put earthworms in your slippers like he did when you were mean to him in grade school.” 

_ Okay, apparently moving stealthily and startling people was a male trait in the Mañoso family. But Ranger playing a practical joke on his sister? What was that? _

_ And was he really, maybe, moving down to Miami? Was he on a date with his Miami girlfriend last night? Why wasn’t his girlfriend here tonight, then, instead of Stephanie?  _

Stephanie felt her thoughts swirling as Ranger’s father put his arm across her back, while resting his palm on Julie’s shoulder. “Dinner is almost ready,” he led them all toward the table. “Julie, don’t worry about your father. He’s used to my mother’s scolding; we all are. It’s how she shows that she cares. What’s important is that having you both here, today, has made us all very happy.”

Hearing voices still echoing from the kitchen, Stephanie suspected her expression had a tinge of doubt, and she could see Julie’s brow raised in a very Ranger-esque expression. 

Ranger’s father smiled. “It’s true,” he reassured, his eyes full of life under the straight eyebrows that all his children seemed to have inherited, along with his mocha complexion. Leading Stephanie to the side, he added, “As for my son, he’s like all of our family, feeling the pull of having family in both Miami and Newark. Well, Trenton in Carlos’s case,” he squeezed her shoulder. “We don’t know his plans, but we do know that Julie has needed him. If you’re here, too, it’s even better.” 

Then the elder Mañoso withdrew his arm and stood, turning his head toward the doorway. “Ah, sounds like the fireworks are over in the kitchen. It should be safe to go back in. Though Carlos should be out soon.” 

As if summoned, Ranger appeared in the doorway. “The coast is clear,” he said with a nod. With that, his father left the room, after first patting his son's arm while whispering to him. Ariana stood and half pulled, half pushed her sister Reina out of the room. And Ranger strode in.

Julie darted over to him, looking up at her father with her head tilted and hands on her waist. Stephanie worried that she was verifying if it would be necessary to, once again, shoot someone on her father’s behalf. 

“Everything’s okay, Jules,” Ranger assured her, a smile tipping up the corner of his lips. 

“Nobody got exiled to a third world country, right?” Stephanie asked.

He barked out a laugh as he guided his daughter back to the table. “Not to worry; freedom of expression is safe tonight, right here at home.” 

As he spoke, someone turned up the volume of the stereo so that the current song was clearly audible. Ariana and Raina appeared in the doorway, platters in hand. They were followed by their brother Rafael, carrying his son Richie. 

“It’s the  _ Bachata en Navidad,  _ Reina called out, announcing the song while pausing to juggle her platter onto one hand. With her other, she reached for Richie’s wriggling toddler fingers. “When Celia Cruz sings, especially when it’s about enjoying  _ la Nochebuena _ , it’s a Cuban’s duty to dance,” she winked at her wide-eyed nephew.

“Go Mima! Go Tío,” Ariana called out as Tío Ernesto, hand-in-hand with his sister, Abuelita Mañoso, executed a graceful little dance move on their way to the table. With a wink at Stephanie, Abuelita said, “ _ Mi nieta tiene razón, aunque en realidad es el deber de todo los guajiros bailar mientras están vivos, rodeada de familia. _ ” Then she pointedly switched her hawk-like gaze to Ranger. 

Glancing between Stephanie and Julie, he translated. “She agrees with Reina about dancing, but says it’s every Cuban’s duty to dance while we’re alive and with family.” No doubt seeing the squint in Stephanie’s eyes as she reflected that she’d never seen Ranger dance, he shrugged. “It’s not a duty to dance when capturing skips or redecorating a gang hideaway, Babe.” 

Well that was just a darned shame, Stephanie thought as she imagined tactically garbed Ranger busting out into a couple of close-hipped salsa moves while shoving a cuffed perp into his Explorer. And maybe she’d accidentally said that out loud, she realized as she heard Julie snort on the other side of Ranger. 

“Well, it’s  _ this _ Cuban family’s duty to eat dinner,” Mrs. Mañoso asserted while striding into the room with the platter of artistically sliced pork. “Time to sit down, everyone.” Her husband, Ranger’s father, followed with the vase of flowers she’d brought, putting it in the center of the table with a waggle of eyebrows in Stephanie’s direction. 

As with any large family, it took several minutes for everyone to finish filtering into the room and get sorted. Linda sat at one end of the table, next to Zoe’s high chair on one side and Ranger’s parents on the other. Rafael, man of the house, was next to Richie on one side, and his Abuelita and her elderly brother Ernesto on the other. 

Having spent so much time with Ranger, Stephanie was sure that he had, by long habit, chosen his seat along the long side of the table by the wall to have an easily defensive position. She was also sure that he had seated Julie and Stephanie on either side of himself to be centrally located as their protection. However, leaning forward to catch Julie’s guarded gaze, Stephanie was fairly sure that the two of them were actually a united front to defend Ranger. 

As the scents of dinner, both the familiar and the exotic, combined in the air, Stephanie heard her stomach growl. Looking over, she saw Ranger’s shoulders shake with amusement. Ranger’s mother smiled. 

Mr. Mañoso began the process of ladening plates with slices of pork, after which bowls and other platters began their progress around the table. Stephanie’s stomach rumbled again in a lull in the conversation. 

“Yeah, what she said,” Ariana nodded across from her, with a smile. Then she turned to her sister. “Reina, this year you can’t hog all the moros y cristianos.” (In an aside, Ranger murmured, “Cuban beans and rice.”)

As the sisters began their playful bickering, their Abuelita seemed to be supervising what went onto Rafael’s plate along with Tío’s, because obviously they took too little on their own. She also raised a glare at Ranger when he passed Stephanie the bowl of yummy fried chips (“plantain chips, Steph, deep-fried in oil”) without taking any, himself. 

And then Rafael began the dinner prayer. Stephanie discovered that, like the bouquet of spices wafting from the platters and bowls on the table, the family prayer was both familiar and new. It began almost identically to her family’s blessing, then continued briefly into Spanish, to which Abuelita uttered a quiet yet emphatic “Sí” of agreement. Then Rafael ended with a blessing for the table and the assembled family. 

“Dig in, everyone, enjoy,” Ranger’s mother said. Then Ranger’s father began telling a story about a Nochebuena dinner when he was a boy, and conversation picked up with the liveliness of movement of the bowls and platters around the table. 

Stephanie smiled as she saw Ranger lean toward Julie, murmuring something in the girl’s ear that made her giggle. Then Ranger sat back up, nudged Stephanie, and murmured “I’m really glad you’re here, Babe.”

“Me too,” she smiled through the salty fullness of emotions that momentarily blurred her vision. Whether tonight was the first time to spend time with Ranger’s family, or the only time, she truly was glad. “I really wouldn’t have missed this for anything.” 

_ To be continued… _

* * *

_Notes regarding songs:_ _Bachata en Navidad_ is a classic recorded by Cuban singer Celia Cruz, an important figure in Cuban American culture, also known as the Queen of Salsa. I’m sure you all know _Feliz Navidad_ , but if you want something a bit different, try the version by Michael Bublé and Thalía. Or the bachata version by Ralphy Dreamz. The children’s burro song that Ariana dislikes is _Mi Burrito Sabanero_ (or _El Burrito de Belén)._ It’s not Cuban, but it’s played all over Latin America, thankfully only during the Christmas season. (Yup, I agree with Ariana on the relative, um, virtues of this song.) There are bunches of versions, including a disconcertingly rap-inspired one.


	5. Christmas Through Your Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story disclaimers and background can be found at the start of Chapter 1.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Christmas Through Your Eyes**

Stephanie had to admit that Ranger’s mother was discreet, though she obviously double-checked that all hands were above the table and that no other funny business was happening. But other than that, and a couple of initial glances from Ranger’s sisters, nobody in Ranger’s family seemed concerned about Stephanie’s happy sounds of enjoyment all throughout dinner. 

Which seemed exactly right, as anyone who was sensible would agree, since dinner was all delicious. 

Although, as Ranger had predicted, his Abuelita had smiled as Stephanie had moaned over dessert. She wondered if she could find  _ turrones  _ in any of the bodegas around Vinnie’s, or the sweet fried dough (“ _ buñuelos _ , Babe”) that had an amazingly sweet, spiced drizzle. Because… oh. my. god. 

Finally sitting back after her final  _ buñuelo _ , with even her dessert stomach almost too full, she discovered it was now time for spiced wine in the extended Mañoso household. While Ariana and Reina took turns bringing filled goblets from the sideboard, with grape juice for the younger set, Stephanie found herself looking at the bowls and platters still covering the table. She realized that dinner had been like a differently spiced reflection of Plum Christmas dinner. 

Similar dishes, similar chaos during the pass-around-the-serving-bowls phase, and similar overlapping conversations over music. Though, admittedly, what Ariana had termed “ old-people’s Latin Christmas” programming on the stereo was significantly peppier than the Christmas song selection that she recalled from her father’s old-people’s radio station. Obviously, Ranger’s Abuelita hadn’t been kidding that Cuban Christmas Eve was a night for dancing. 

Despite that, what was really different from Stephanie’s perspective was that there was much less discussion of weird relatives, alive or deceased. Maybe the Mañosos didn’t have any, which if they’d lived in the ’Burg would have given immediate rise to rumors that they were space aliens. After all, there was the well-known precedent of aliens among us that everyone knew from  _ 3rd Rock from the Sun _ . 

Happily, she could easily refute that theory by the fact that they did bring up funny childhood  _ faux pas  _ stories— always a popular topic in the Plum household as well— though Ranger’s parents steered them away from them when they got too scandalous. For example, she oh-so-wanted to hear more about the time when six-year-old Ranger socked Goofy in the nuts at Disney World for disrespecting his older sister Celia. 

She’d been happy to see Julie almost snort mashed potatoes at that story. Alas, though, that moment had been the catalyst for Mr. Mañoso’s diversion into football. 

Where it turned out that both he and Rafael were big Giants fans, and that Ranger was also able to hold his own.  _ Huh _ , the Mañoso men would actually be able to sustain a conversation with her father, since sports was basically the only topic where he extended to multiple sentences at one time. And the Giants were a big topic in Mr. Plum’s sports repertoire, right behind the New York Rangers hockey team. 

_ Huh. Who knew _ ? 

While the men talked NFL, Ranger’s sisters discussed movies. Having been stretching money for a while had recently limited Stephanie’s movie and cable fare. As a result, she could only contribute when older movies were mentioned, though she took mental notes of newer ones for when she could finally binge again. 

Finally, Richie squirmed his way out of his chair after a startlingly well-behaved interlude of playing with unused silverware and a pair of dice that Tío Ernesto had retrieved from his pocket. “Prezzies,” he cried, starting toward the living room, arms waving like the yellow inflatable tube man outside of Joey’s Check Cashing and Cellphones on Hamilton, in the ’Burg. 

“That’s your son, Rafi,” Linda intoned from the other end of the table, looking heavenward. “Eyes on the prize at all times.” 

Rafael rose from his chair to pursue his son, which was the signal for the rest of the family to stand up from the table. Ranger’s sisters begin to gather plates and glasses onto trays, while his mother picked up a couple of bowls. “Carlito, can you please carry the meat platter back to the kitchen?” she asked, after first gesturing to Linda that she should stay seated with her baby. 

“I’ll help,” Stephanie picked up a couple of the serving bowls and followed into the kitchen, with Julie trailing behind her and Ranger. 

After a couple of trips, the table was cleared and Mrs. Mañoso began shooing people from the kitchen. As Stephanie was about to follow Ranger and Julie back to the living room, Ranger’s mother asked for her to hand over a bowl from the counter. After dropping the bowl into the running water, she turned back toward Stephanie and wiped her hands on a towel. 

“I just need to start a couple of these to soak; it won’t take but a minute.” She gazed directly into Stephanie eyes. “Before we head to the living room, I wanted to say how much it means to me and Raul, my husband, that you’re with us tonight.” She put her hand up, forestalling Stephanie’s polite reply. “I know you think we’re crazy because we keep thanking you. It’s just that this is the first year since he was in the Army that my son has invited anyone to a family gathering, other than Pierre.” She tilted her head, then added, “I guess you call him Tank.” She sighed. “And, of course, Julie’s mother during the year that they were married.” 

Before Stephanie could think of what to say, Ranger’s mother continued speaking. “Of course, he’s always been quiet but, unlike Rafi, Carlito really closed himself off after the Army. So, we’re glad he finally has lights in his life to brighten it.” She looked down before adding, “Though, of course I wish it had been for a different, better reason.” 

“I don’t understand,” Stephanie said.

The older woman’s eyes darted toward the dining room door. With her voice lowered so it was just barely audible over the running water, she said. “I’m sure Carlito didn’t mention this, because he’s so proud, but the doctors told my husband that he almost didn’t make it back to us this last time.” She swallowed audibly. “Raul said that they almost lost him in the ambulance. Then in surgery. They had to use that heart-starting machine a couple times, I think.”

“Oh,” Stephanie exhaled, feeling as though her own heart had shoved aside her lungs, expelling the sound from deep inside. She remembered fearing that he’d lost too much blood, at first. There had been so much…. But, after he’d recovered, Ranger had reassured her that Scrog’s shot had looked much worse than it was, and that he was fine. And, since it was Ranger, she’d taken that on faith. 

Her mind served up an image of the faded rug she had in her Trenton foyer to cover up that memory. Irrelevantly she pondered that maybe she needed to buy a bigger, thicker one. Or maybe she could pay Dillon, the super, to replace that part of the flooring altogether. 

Or maybe she should finally move somewhere else…. 

With a sniff, Ranger’s mother reached over for Stephanie’s hand before she continued. “I had the flu so they wouldn’t let me come anywhere near the ICU. My husband, though, stayed there over three days straight. I know you were there, too, in the waiting room, along with Carlito’s friends and coworkers.” The older woman’s suspiciously watery gaze fixed on her. “Raul told me that, after Carlito was breathing on his own but still sedated, he talked about Julie. And about you, Stephanie. We think you gave him courage to come back to us. So, you’re family, Stephanie. Always.”

As Stephanie felt heat flush up her chest to her cheeks, Ranger’s mother surged forward and enveloped her in a brief hug. It was even tighter than the first hug when they’d met earlier today. This time, though, Stephanie knew that her returning embrace was equally heartfelt. 

Backing up, Mrs. Mañoso dabbed briefly at her eyes while regaining her composure. Finally, she murmured, “We hope you’ll tell us if he needs us.” Probably seeing the confusion on Stephanie’s face, the older woman explained, “Carlito wouldn’t tell us if he’s having any trouble. But we’d want to help him, if he was.” 

“Of course,” Stephanie replied without hesitation, but then realized she had no idea if she really could do that. First, she believed that when Ranger occasionally confided in her, he expected that she wouldn’t pass along what he told her. Beyond that, as the current conversation revealed, he rarely confided weakness. 

Ranger’s mother turned back to the sink and resumed rinsing. “It’s good Julie is comfortable with you, too. She’s so much like her father at that age.” She rested her current bowl in the sudsy water that filled the sink’s side basin, then picked up the last platter from the counter. “You know, before this summer, the last time I saw her she was about Richie’s age.” She frowned in profile. “ But that’s not because of Carlito; it was her mother’s decision.” 

More quietly, just above the sound of running water, she murmured, “But, of course, we all try to protect the ones we love from the world’s harms. Without knowing that it causes its own problems.” 

Stephanie gazed at the ramrod straight woman in front of her, unsure what to say. If she were standing next to the woman’s son, Ranger, she’d simply reach out for his hand to let him know she was there. She’d reassure him that there was a chance to make things right, going forward, and that she’d help. And it would all be true. 

In this case, though, she didn’t know Ranger’s mother well enough. Beyond that, she was concerned that the Mañosos seemed to think that she was more entwined in Ranger’s life than she was. Especially recently, since Ranger had come down to Miami. Where he was maybe planning to stay.

But she was still Stephanie Plum, whether she was talking to Ranger or his mother. So, she stepped forward and said, “I’ll do what I can to help.” Then, just as she’d marshalled the words to say more, Ranger’s sister Ariana breezed into the room. 

“ _ Feliz Nochebuena, queridas _ . Mama, Stephanie, come open gifts with us.” 

Stephanie and Mrs. Mañoso both turned as Ariana was followed by Ranger. “Everything okay?” he asked casually. Stephanie, though, saw his concern in his brows, which had drawn together. 

“It’s all good, Ranger,” Stephanie moved toward him, temporarily shielding his mother from view. “Pots soaking, hands dried.”

“And time for…  _ prezzies _ ,” Ariana called out with a wide smile, waving her hands above her head in imitation of her nephew. Even Ranger’s mother laughed as they all turned to file out of the kitchen. Stephanie knew she’d seen the start of a new Mañoso holiday story. If they were anything like the Plums, the story would follow Richie his whole life, no doubt with larger-than-life enactments during key moments, such as when he brought dates home to meet his family. 

Settled into a section of the sofa, Stephanie felt the secure solidness of Ranger beside her. She suspected Julie, again on Ranger’s other side, felt something similar. Vowing to never take Ranger’s stoic, selfless presence for granted again, she leaned her shoulder against his. Smiling in response to the question in his glance, she whispered “ _ Feliz Nochebuena _ ,” copying Ariana from before. A smile washed his face; it was as bright as his 100-watt smile, but something different. A smile she’d never seen before. 

Within seconds, though, her attention was diverted to the gift exchange when Reina brought over a brightly colored package addressed to her. “They’re lovely,” Stephanie exclaimed at the set of tropical colored bracelets that were a gift from the Mañoso family. She immediately put them on, only noticing Ranger’s nonchalant smile after she mentioned that they matched a fair amount of her dressed-up wardrobe’s color selection. 

She then jumped up since she’d discovered it was family custom for each recipient to hand out the next present, though she’d seen that nobody gave out their own gifts. So, it wasn’t until a few turns later that it was time for Ranger to open the gift she’d brought for him. 

Holding her breath, she watched as his strong fingers carefully undid the wrapping to reveal a handmade, wooden picture frame she’d bought this morning from a Key Biscayne artist’s shop. Inside was an enlarged photo of Julie, standing outside of Trenton’s St. Francis Hospital, which Stephanie had printed from her phone. One hand on her hip, face tilted, the girl’s entire being conveyed the agile mixture of awareness, amusement, and skepticism that Stephanie pictured on her face whenever she thought of Ranger’s daughter.

“I hope you don’t mind, Julie, but I really like that picture,” she leaned forward and confided to Julie on Ranger’s other side. Sitting back up to look at him, she added, “But you maybe have a newer one you can put in there if you want.” 

His fingertip lightly traced the outline of Julie’s face through the framed glass, and then a slow, almost perplexed smile lifted his lips. “It’s perfect, Steph. I like this one. Thank you.” His arm reached around her shoulders for a brief hug. Feeling herself enveloped in his strong embrace, even momentarily, was all the thanks she needed. 

As Ranger’s mother asked Julie to bring the picture over so she could see, Ranger murmured, “I’ll give you my gift later, on the drive home.” 

Deciding quickly that this wasn’t an innuendo, given that he was in front of own mother and daughter, she shrugged. “Okay,” she replied as he released her, keeping his arm across her shoulders on the sofa back. “But if that’s code for you didn’t get me anything, I’m fine. I consider your invitation to join your family tonight as my gift. It included dinner and dessert and it totally fits in all the right places. No gift receipt needed.” 

Ranger’s lips smirked, and she heard Julie chuckle as she sat back down on Ranger’s other side. From across the room, though, Abuelita’s voice cut through with a firm “Carlito” followed by more gimlet-eyed Spanish.

“ _ Sí Mima, es verdad, son los billetes que mencioné antes _ ,” Ranger asserted as Stephanie tried to memorize the syllables to look up later. But then he turned to her and said, “I’m reassuring her— and also you— that I really do have a gift I’m giving you later.”

“Okay,” she repeated, then elbowed Ranger, grinning. “Because waiting patiently is my absolute best thing.” Ranger’s smirk returned, along with Julie’s chuckle. To her other side, she heard Ranger’s sisters Ariana and Reina giggling quietly. 

At that moment, Ranger’s father walked over to Julie with Stephanie’s present for her. Then, perching on the arm rest next to Stephanie, he murmured, “Can you share that picture of Julie with Alma and me? I wished I had taken some this summer, but I’m afraid my attention was elsewhere.” His chin jutted in Ranger’s direction. 

“Of course. And I’ll get both you and Ranger the one that Julie’s opening, too,” she replied while watching Ranger’s daughter unwrap the small frame and photo she’d picked out for the girl. Amused, she noted that Julie had none of Ranger’s precision care with wrapping paper.

“Wow,” Julie said, looking at the picture of Ranger that Stephanie had printed for her. It was another photo from this summer, this time featuring Ranger with Julie. While his daughter gazed knowingly at the camera, Ranger was looking at his daughter with a rare, proud smile lighting his whole face. They were obviously in the hospital, but Stephanie had done her best to crop most of his bandages and the hospital bed from the photo. 

“Thank you,” Julie breathed, blinking, as Ranger peeked over his daughter’s shoulder. “I don’t have many pictures,” she added. At which point a thin chain fell from the wrapping still in her hands, into her lap. She put down the picture and straightened out the chain, eyebrows knit in puzzlement. “Wonder Woman?”

Both Ranger and his father had shifted to look at the lightly tarnished necklace in Julie’s cupped palms, while Stephanie felt Ranger’s sisters’ eyes on her. “Yup, it’s Wonder Woman’s Lasso of Truth, with the star from her headband as a charm,” she admitted, while recognizing that this had seemed like a  _ much _ better idea back in her condo. 

But, forging ahead, she went on to explain, “I know, it’s kinda goofy as a gift, since it’s something of mine that I brought with me. My bestie, Mary Lou, gave that to me in high school to remind me that I’d always been brave. Or maybe, that it was okay that I didn’t care about what others thought of me… but whatever. The point is that I figured a resourceful and brave girl like you could use a little Wonder Woman power in her life, too.” 

Julie glanced back at the necklace. “It’s actually cool, thanks. And I like Wonder Woman,” she paused, dangling the chain from her fingers as its charm rotated with the chain. “So, it’s like an heirloom, right?”

“That’s me, old enough that my high school belongings are now heirlooms.”

Shaking her head, Julie stood. “That’s not what I meant, silly.” She then came over to embrace Stephanie. “I get it. It’s something special that means something to you. And it says ‘Friends Forever’ on the back. So, it’s personal, like the photo which is also really cool. So, thanks.”

“You’re so welcome,” Stephanie exhaled, blinking back moisture from her eyes. In her periphery, he saw Ranger with that same almost-100-watt smile he’d had before. As Julie released her, Stephanie saw a smile similar to Ranger’s on his mother’s face, while she felt Mr. Mañoso’s hand on her shoulder. Apparently she’d gotten something right, she thought, seeing Abuelita’s proud eagle’s nod from the corner.

Standing up, Ranger’s father murmured, “Your gifts are perfect, Stephanie. In our family, we don’t buy too many gifts, even now when we have more money between us. Not as many toys; more keepsakes.” She looked up in time to see him smile in the direction of his wife. “My first Christmas gift to my Alma was a book of poetry I’d enjoyed while growing up. She still has it.” 

“Thanks for letting me know,” she murmured back.

“Any time,” he nodded with a pat to her shoulder, and then returned to where his wife was sitting.

After that, there were only a couple more presents under the tree; one for each of Ranger’s sisters. As they opened them, Stephanie sat back, realizing that the lightly playing background music was finally in English. At the refrain— something about seeing Christmas “through your eyes”— she smiled. She looked at Ranger, wondering how this year’s celebration seemed through his eyes. She hoped it was a bright moment for this man, who always seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

It made her hope that, next year, she could spend this holiday with him again. 

At that moment Ranger’s nephew Richie, who’d been on the floor playing with his new Power Rangers set, sat up and shared a colossal yawn with the room. Rafael’s wife Linda, who had just returned from feeding and tucking their baby into her crib, shook her head. “And... another one,” she sighed. “Rafi?”

“My turn,” her husband Rafael stood and reached for their son. “Bedtime,  _ m’ijo _ ,” he said, pulling the boy to stand while scooping up a handful of the boy’s most recent toys. “Say goodnight, and then we’ll go brush those teeth like true Power Rangers do,” he said. After the boy quickly ran to his mother for a sloppy hug and then waved his toddler goodnights, Ranger’s brother and his son headed down the hallway.

“In Cuba,” Ranger’s mother said, “they had  _ Nochebuena _ dinner later in the evening, and then everyone would leave for midnight mass. But we changed it around because the kids either slept through the service, or their sleep schedules got messed up.”

Ranger’s father added, “Plus we had to work, or were on-call, on Christmas. I know the first time I went to work on Christmas after an hour’s sleep wasn’t a good time for anyone. It was even harder than when you kids were teething,” he looked toward Ranger and his sisters. “And your Mama was always on-call at the nursing home where she worked, back then.” 

“See Steph?” Ranger leaned close enough to her ear that his breath tickled. “I come by my holiday work schedule honestly.”

As Stephanie snorted, Ariana leaned forward. 

“Well, I appreciate the earlier schedule,” Ranger’s sister said. “I have a full day of work ahead of me tomorrow.”

“And, since you’ve so nicely enlisted me to work for you, while I’m here supposedly on vacation, so do I,” her sister Reina elbowed her. 

“Hey, I’m paying you. Time-and-a-half, too. But, beyond that, I appreciate it  _ mucho _ ,  _ mucho, _ ” Ariana replied, taking a moment to hug her sister. Then turning toward Stephanie, she explained. “I’m an estate manager for rich people. It’s the most fun and weird job ever.”

Stephanie thought that she could give Ariana the proverbial “run for her money.” At least at the “weird” end of the spectrum. Based on Ranger’s smirk, she could tell he was thinking something similar. 

Meanwhile, Ariana continued, “Mostly I love it because who wouldn’t like a job where every day is different and you get to drive around, hang out at rich peoples’ houses, make sure their cable still works, and that their five-foot, Chinese Fu dog statues get delivered and installed properly?” 

As the family chuckled, she leaned forward, waving her hands dramatically around her head. “But sometimes it all happens at once and makes me crazy. Like right now, because I have to make sure six different houses are ready for their families to host New Year’s parties. One needs a new caterer, last minute. Another needs someone to supervise their cleaning service because they’re still in Belize, a third decided they wanted to add cable service on top of having dish because of some special cable-only event. And they all need to the usual crud like having batteries refreshed in their TV remotes and lightbulbs checked.”

Reina laughed, next to her. “And there’s that family that’s been overseas that just decided spur-of-the-moment to return, so that’s where I’m going tomorrow. Gotta make sure the fridge is stocked, the towels and linens are all clean and seasonally spiffy, and there are flowers in every room.” She opened her eyes, comically. “Whoa, I need someone to do that for me. Too bad I’m on a student’s budget.” 

As Stephanie thought that what she really needed was Ranger’s Ella, he rumbled quietly into her ear. “Ella’s our second cousin, Babe. She got Ariana started. And I do sometimes ask her to help out Reina and our other sisters, Celia and Carmen.” 

“Ah,” Stephanie nodded, while Ariana continued talking. 

“Next week will be just as jam-packed, and I’m down a couple people,” she frowned. Then, her face turned and her lively chestnut eyes speared Stephanie’s. 

“Hey Stephanie,” she said. “Want to make some quick money over the next few weeks?”

“Um,” she darted a glance toward Ranger, worrying her lip momentarily between her teeth. 

“You know,” he said thoughtfully. “I’d never considered it, but you’d be good at what Ariana does, and would probably like it. It’s better all ways around than working for Vinnie. Not as good as working at Rangeman,” he smirked, “but it’s better money than waitressing.” 

“Seriously, way more money than waitressing,” Ariana nodded. 

“Um,” Stephanie repeated. “Well, I can't. I’m actually going back up to Trenton tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Ariana asked, echoed by Mrs. Mañoso’s more emphatic repetition of the word.

“Carlito,” his mother glared from across the room while hand-waving a polite  _ shush _ to Ranger’s Abuelita. “You run a big-shot company that has actual national governments as clients. Yet, you have her flying home on Christmas Day? You couldn’t do better than that? And, you couldn’t invite her to meet us before today?” 

“Mama,” he began before Stephanie leaned forward to interrupt. 

“It’s not his fault, Mrs. Mañoso. I didn’t tell him about the flight until just yesterday.” Turning to Ariana, she added, “It’s tempting, and sounds like fun, but my family is really expecting me. I’ve been away for a lot more time than originally planned.” 

“Ah, too bad,” Ariana said, shifting to reach in her pocket. Pulling out and opening a slim metal case, she passed a business card to Stephanie. “Well, give me a call when you get back.” She smiled. “No need to wait for Carlos, since he’s apparently been hiding you from us.” 

“Okay thanks, will do,” she answered, peeking at Ranger’s enigmatic expression as she pocketed the card. She wondered briefly if, in fact, he’d been hiding himself from  _ her _ over the past several weeks. But then he turned toward Julie, gently reaching out to brush a lock of hair back from his daughter’s face, and Stephanie realized he simply had a very different focus right now. As he should.

While conversation resumed around her, she sat back and watched Ranger. He whispered something to Julie and she smiled quietly in reply. Then he nodded and turned toward Stephanie, and she couldn’t help but notice how calm his eyes and relaxed his face looked. Fatherhood certainly looked good on him, Stephanie thought with a quick grin.

“Babe,” he murmured, his own lips lifting in a smile. “We need to leave soon so I can get Julie back in time. You ready to leave?”

“Whenever you are,” she replied, regretting the end of the evening even while admitting that it was, indeed, getting late. At least she’d get to ride along while they drove Julie back to her house, and then for the drive back to Key Biscayne. 

With that, Ranger leaned forward to stand, announcing that they needed to leave. 

His brother Rafael, who’d returned while Ariana spoke, stood again as well. “Hermano, so is this a Cuban goodbye, with conversation for the next forty-five minutes with maybe more time for a virtual cigar? Or an American goodbye that’s on the clock?” He asked with a laugh. 

“American, you know me,” Ranger shrugged, at which point the rest of his family joined in the laughter. 

Despite Ranger’s preferences, though, Stephanie estimated that it took over a half hour to get out of the door, with the flurry of hugs, goodbyes, confirmation that everyone had all their presents, and the final gift of dessert leftovers in shopping bags. Finally, though, they’d made it to the foyer where Ranger was helping Stephanie into her jacket, having first helped Julie into her coat. 

At that moment, his Abuelita made her way through Ranger’s parents and siblings. “Gift from Santi Clo,” she said, pressing a small coin into Julie’s hand and another into Stephanie’s. She then turned to Ranger to say the rest, and waited for him to translate.

Nodding, he explained, “In Cuba, Santa Claus gives another gift on Christmas Day. Since you’ll both be elsewhere then, she wants you to get your gifts tonight.” He paused, reaching out to hug his petite Abuelita’s slim shoulders, kissing her lightly on the top of her head. Then he continued, “Those are each twenty  _ centavo  _ coins from old Cuba. They weren’t worth anything when our family came over, so Mima was able to keep them. Even now they’re not worth much to collectors. But, to Mima and her generation, they’re a connection to where our family is from. She’s saying you’re each a part of the family.” 

“Wow,” Julie said, stepping toward the small, gray-haired woman, the coin clutched in her hand. “Thank you... Mima?” she looked back at Ranger, who nodded. As soon as the girl’s gaze returned to Ranger’s grandmother, the older woman reached out her arms, enfolding Julie in a hug. 

“ _Bisnieta mía_. _Siempre,_ ” Ranger’s grandmother said as Julie visibly relaxed into the embrace. “Always, you are daughter of my grandson. Daughter of _mi_ _corazón_ , my heart. Never have fear.” She hugged her great-granddaughter once more and then, releasing her, turned to Stephanie. 

“ _ Y tú también _ ,” Abuelita said, one wire-strong arm reaching around Stephanie to pull her close to her side. In a low voice, she said, “Family. Make Carlito bring you back to us,  _ m’ija _ .”

“ _ Gracias _ ,” she returned the older woman’s hug. “I’ll tell him you said he should.”

The old woman exhaled in laughter, her lips pursed in a smile that was startlingly similar to her grandson’s smirk. “Do. Sometime my Carlitito need  _ la dirección _ .”

Stephanie couldn’t help the Jersey snort that overtook her like a humor filled sneeze at that moment. Which made Abuelita laugh. And then, possibly having overheard some of what the older woman had said, Ranger’s parents echoed her with quieter, decorous laughter. All of which led to yet another round of goodbye hugs and handshakes. 

So, when Ranger finally ushered Stephanie and Julie out the front door into the cool night, it almost felt like she’d been at Rafael’s and Linda’s house for untrackable amount of time. But in a good way. Pulling her coat closed, she glanced around her at the flowering hedge along the driveway, the soaring palm trees, and then up to the sky. 

“It’s beautiful here,” she murmured. She reached out to hold Ranger’s free hand as they approached his car. “I like your family,” she said. 

“Me too,” Julie added.

“I’m glad,” Ranger replied, unlocking the car with his key fob. “They’re good people.” 

He opened the car doors, settling Julie in the back and Stephanie in the passenger seat. As he was about to close the doors, Julie looked up. “Ranger,” she exclaimed. “I left my sweater inside. The one with the stripes. My mom will be P.O.ed.” She started to get back out of the car.

“Stay put,” Ranger said. “I’ll get it.” With an amused expression, he added, “If you went in by yourself, I’d have to mount a professional extraction operation to get you out in less than an hour.” 

Julie and Stephanie snickered as he strode up the sidewalk. 

Taking her own quick hand-patting inventory to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind, Stephanie ended up at Abuelita’s coin, which she retrieved from her pocket. With a shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature, she considered that it was clearly from a time before when she and Ranger were born. A coin that had come to his family when they were still in Cuba, where she would never have met him. A connection to his whole family, back through time.

Something similar must have been going through Julie’s mind, as well. “It’s weird, and I know Ranger would take this the wrong way, but I never really thought that I was part of his family until his grandma said it the way she did. I mean, I knew he was my father and that he’d protect me and stuff. But now I get that I have this whole other family. And they’re pretty nice; not nearly as scary as my mom always said.”

“I know what you mean,” Stephanie replied, turning to the backseat. “I never imagined Ranger having a family with houses with cluttered foyers and baby pictures on the wall. I guess I thought they’d all have showroom-clean apartments in office buildings,” she said as Julie laughed quietly. “But, don’t worry about what your mom told you; she probably has her own reasons. I know my own mom and I don’t agree about some things, but it’s still okay.” 

“Yeah,” Julie agreed. “I just have to get used to it, I guess,” she looked out the window, toward the house. Then, she returned her gaze to Stephanie. “I sometimes have bad dreams, you know. Dreams that I’m in trouble and Ranger doesn’t come. I know they’re not real, but I still wake up all sweaty and scared.” 

“Oh sweetie,” Stephanie reached between the bucket seats and put her hand on the Julie’s knee. “Ranger does everything he can to protect you, and will always save you. It’s what he does.”

“I know,” she nodded. “But now I also know his family would, too. So, maybe that will help.” 

As Ranger emerged from his brother’s house, sweater in hand, Julie flashed a smile. “And, even better, I can almost imagine his grandma walking into, like, a gang standoff and yelling at the guys so much that they slink away in tears. Maybe she’d show up along with your grandma and her gun.” 

Stephanie, following along with Julie’s words, could picture it too. Then, adding Grandma Mazur to the mix sparked an almost irrepressible laugh. “I can totally see that,” she managed to say before Ranger opened the driver’s side door. 

“Babe?” he asked, eyebrow hovering upward as he handed the sweater to Julie. 

Controlling her giggles, Stephanie answered, “We were just comparing notes about grandmothers.” 

“Good to know,” he said, looking unconvinced as he started the car. “As long as you don’t sic your grandma on me, Steph, I’ll be fine.”

At that, both Julie and Stephanie dissolved back into laughter, while Ranger put the car into drive. 

“Never underestimate our grandmas,” Stephanie replied, wiping tears of laughter from her face. 

“I never underestimate women who have power and know how to use it,” Ranger replied, his lips quirked with knowing amusement. 

_ To be continued… _

* * *

_Note:_ _Christmas Through Your Eyes_ is a poetic, poignant song by Cuban-American Gloria Estefan. In the song, she longs to once again see the innocence and beauty of life the way her child sees the wonder of Christmas. For me, it evokes what Ranger must be feeling deep inside during chapters 4 and 5. 


	6. Merry Christmas, Darling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story disclaimers and background can be found at the start of Chapter 1.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Merry Christmas, Darling**

While Julie pointed out her school and the houses where some of her friends lived, they drove down several quiet, orderly streets until they got to the Martine’s. It was a quiet neighborhood of modest single-story houses on equally modest lots. Twinkly holiday lights outlined roofs and bedazzled assorted unsuspecting semi tropical trees, and electric luminaria dotted sidewalks.

There were also yards with elaborate creches featuring the Holy Family within illuminated mangers, occasional wise men, and even more occasional illuminated camels, sheep, and other admiring animals. Beyond that, Stephanie was pleased to see that at least one yard per block featured an invasion of Santas, herds of flying reindeer scattering from the roof, or bobbles of inflatable snowmen interspersed with livesized elves and giant illuminated candy canes. Some people really knew how to celebrate their holiday with pizazz.

With an expertise borne from one of many guided tours her friend Laurie had encouraged her to take over the past few weeks, she spotted that this was a postwar neighborhood that slightly pre-dated cookie-cutter subdivisions. Well established with mature trees, it had a variety of the housing styles that were built to be comfortable in Miami’s heat before everything was air conditioned. 

_Huh_ , she sat back in her seat. She _had_ been paying attention, after all. 

The car slowed, then pulled into a driveway. And, speaking of paying attention, she scrambled to put together the words Ranger had just directed her way. 

“Babe,” he said, lip quirked in a knowing smile. Okay, so maybe he’d figured out that she’d been distracted. Julie’s snort from the backseat seconded that opinion.

Well, no point in trying to pull the wool over the eyes of the Wizard and his daughter. So, she turned toward Ranger and said, “Okay, I’m paying attention now.” 

“Are you okay with staying in the car for a few minutes? I’m going to walk Julie to the door and figure it’s best if you stay out here in the DMZ,” he looked her way. “We’re cutting it close to curfew and it may keep the friendly fire down.” 

“Yeah, Mom can be prickly,” Julie muttered. 

“Sure, I’m fine waiting out here,” she nodded at Ranger. Then turning even further toward Ranger’s daughter, she added, “It makes sense, Julie. She’s just starting to trust your father. Letting you visit with his family over a holiday is a really big deal, so introducing another person tonight spook her. There’s no point in pushing her too far until she’s more comfortable.” She didn’t add that it was a toss-up whether recognizing Stephanie from this summer would reassure Julie’s mother or traumatically remind her of a bad situation. 

“Hmm,” Julie’s lips pulled thoughtfully as she started to gather her belongings. 

Meanwhile, Ranger paused after opening his door. “Good advice, Steph,” he said, looking at her with a hint of curiosity, as though seeing her anew. 

“Hey, I know all about handling prickly mothers.” 

“That you do,” he reached over to tuck a coil of hair behind her ear. “One of your many talents,” he added in a quiet rumble. Then, while Stephanie was deciding whether the evening temperature had risen unexpectedly, he angled himself out of the car and turned to open Julie’s door. Bustling out of the car, she turned to follow her father toward the front sidewalk. Then, she quickly doubled back to Stephanie’s side of the car.

Stephanie first tried to open the window. Quickly deciding that she’d been “childproofed” she simply opened the car door. “Did you forget something?”

“Yup,” Julie nodded primly, then leaned down with her gift bag dangling from one arm and her sweater from the other. “I forgot to say goodbye to you,” she murmured with an approximation of a hug. Then, her voice quiet in Stephanie’s ear, she said, “And to say that I hope you come back soon. I can tell it makes Ranger happy, and I’d like to see you, too.” 

Standing, she breathlessly added, “Tell Ranger to let you have one of the tickets I gave him for my play in February. It’s _The Little Mermaid_ and I get to play Ariel the mermaid’s sister. It’s way better than last year when I played a stupid teapot in _Beauty and the Beast_. Which is a totally weird musical, if you ask me.”

“Jules,” Ranger’s voice interrupted his daughter, “we need to get going. Your mother is waiting.” 

“Coming,” she replied, turning to trot back to Ranger, and then up the walkway to the front door. 

Peering through Ranger’s side window, Stephanie followed their passage up the walkway. At the same time, she could see Rachel Martine’s vigilant silhouette in the window by the front door. She was the same whip-thin, nervous woman who’d rushed forward to enfold her daughter this summer after arriving at the hospital where Ranger was in surgery. Stephanie remembered the momentary hurt in the woman’s eyes when she’d realized that Julie didn’t want to leave the waiting room while Ranger’s fate was uncertain. 

She also remembered how Rachel had then lifted her chin, conferred with her husband, and then sat alongside her daughter for hours. Visibly uncomfortable in a room full of her ex-husband’s looming, black clad employees, she hadn’t said much. But, she’d stayed, resolutely holding her daughter’s hand, peering protectively like a Doberman. She’d offered Ranger’s father’s comfort as he’d sat beside her for a while. And she’d guardedly yet politely greeted Stephanie after Julie had pointed her out. 

And now the same woman was apparently trying to overcome her misgivings— trying to trust Ranger again— all to help her daughter adjust. 

Stephanie nodded in recognition. It was that weird maternal mix of overprotectiveness, nerves, and situational bravery that she saw sometimes in her own mother. Helen Plum certainly sampled the dinner sherry a bit too much and tried too hard to push her daughters to marry. But, she was also the ’Burg housewife who’d broken about four traffic laws and aimed her car at a human-sized rabbit when she’d seen her daughter threatened. 

As Stephanie mused, she watched Julie hug Ranger goodbye. It was too far away to hear words, though she’d left her car door just in case. She did see, though, the brief, almost formal interplay between Rachel, Ranger, and Julie. Then, as Julie followed her mother into the house, she saw Ranger step back, straightening as he kept his eyes on the closing front door. She wasn’t sure, but his posture and his expression in profile actually looked _sad_. Which made sense, given the moment, though it was something she’d never seen before from Ranger. 

Worrying her lower lip with her teeth, Stephanie knew she was seeing a private moment. Of course, ’Burg etiquette was to get as close as possible to snoop on such moments, as long as you could do it without being obvious. Or, at least, without having an excuse, like studying up on styles of entryways and porch lights in post-war Miami architecture as a follow up to a recent tour, which could then be described long enough to provide a great distraction. 

Yet, she balked. This was Ranger. 

Now, certainly he’d spied on her in the past. Heck, he’d attached tracking devices to her belongings, had her car followed, and even broken into her apartment more than once. Oh, and don’t think she hadn’t noticed the times that the CEO of Rangeman, namely Ranger, just happened to drop into Vinnie’s to collect a minor check while she was there. A check that Lester, Hal, or even Binky could’ve picked up on their regular rounds. 

She was positive, though, that it was because he valued her. And because he was trying to keep her safe. In other words, he was doing morally gray, and sometimes sketchy things for the right reason. 

Whereas spying on the intimate stoicism of Ranger’s private emotions because she was curious didn’t feel like a “right reason” as she’d come to understand Ranger’s morality. 

So, she looked away. Reaching down to the car mat for her purse, she pulled out her phone. Spotting a text message from the airline, she confirmed the time of her flight tomorrow. Spotting a voice message from her sister, she played it, and was just at the end of the message when Ranger opened his car door.

“Important news?” he asked, taking his seat. 

“Just my sister telling me that Rex misses me.” 

“Ah,” he replied while starting the car and then pulling out into the street. 

That “ah” said about everything that needed to be said, Stephanie thought. What was it with people in her life assuring her that animals missed her? Joe and Bob the dog… Valerie and Rex. At least Valerie had the advantage that Stephanie also missed Rex. On the other hand, she’d never once missed Bob. And lately, not Joe either. 

_Huh._ Well, time in her thinking position on the beach had gotten her somewhere new. _New Year’s resolution number two:_ Use what she’d learned the past several weeks to improve her day-to-day life. In other words, avoid falling back on old habits unless they were good ones. For example, the habit of buying donuts and sheet cakes after they were discounted at 4pm was good, so should be continued. Unlike the habit of moving in with Joe because… well… because it was convenient? 

Maybe she could puzzle that out during some deep thought time tomorrow, on the airplane. 

While she’d been pondering her new insights on life, Ranger had quietly reached for the car’s console and turned on the car stereo. A jazzy version of _Sleigh Ride_ lilted in the air, making the ride feel festive and elegant. Stephanie sat back and savored the sights as they left Julie’s neighborhood and emerged into the brighter lights of urban Miami. She had a feeling that Ranger was taking a scenic route back to Key Biscayne, giving her a chance to say goodbye to the sprawling, lively city.

“You held up well, tonight” Ranger said from behind the steering wheel, his lip lifted in amusement. “Proud of you, Babe.”

She snorted. “Thanks Ranger. But seriously, you’ve met my family. After them, everything is normal up to, and maybe including, spending Christmas dangling from a helicopter with The Rock while the earth cracks open under us.”

Ranger laughed out loud. “I’m not sure whether I’m pleased that you think of all contingencies. Or if I’m worried that you’ve assumed that scenario actually might be one of them. But, either way, I hope tonight was nowhere near that level of apocalyptic holiday.” 

Stephanie reached over the console to wrap her hand around his arm, which even under his windbreaker felt solid and comforting. “Your family was very welcoming. It was one of the nicest holiday dinners I’ve ever attended.” She hoped her sincerity came through, because it was absolutely true. She spared a moment to wonder how Ranger had ended up so taciturn, so solitary, coming from a family like his. 

But no matter; that was something she could find out over time. What was important was the man he was at this moment. Her one-time mentor, her friend; a man who seemed to be changing, but how?

“It must be nice being able to finally spend time with Julie, again,” she murmured into the quiet music caressing the air with Christmas spirit. 

“It is. But it’s also very confusing,” he replied, his gaze focused on the road ahead of him. “Most parents get to know their children over time. But here she is, a complete person, somewhere between a child and an adult.” 

“Your mom said she reminds her of you, at her age.” 

He huffed a laugh. “Not sure that’s a good thing. Sounds like what parents wish on a child during difficult moments. But, it’s not too different from what Rachel says, so probably true.” His lips pulled. “I’m just not sure if it’s better for her to be around me, or if it messes her up.” 

“Ranger,” she squeezed his arm. “Julie really wants you in her life, and I think getting to be with your family is a good thing, too. I think she’s afraid you’ll abandon her.” She swallowed. “She just went through being abducted. Then seeing her father, who she barely knows, was willing to die for her. She mattered that much to you. Now you matter that much to her.” 

He nodded, lips still pursed, though now in thought. They drove through another couple of lights before he murmured, “I’ve told Tank and the team to take me off the roster for foreign mission.” His shoulders stretched under his shirt; the rolling movement told her it wasn’t a casual shrug, but more like he was trying to fit into his body. “No domestic hazard jobs, either, unless absolutely necessary. Like the married men.” 

“That makes sense,” she replied after a pause, pulling back her hand after a final squeeze. “It’s a big change, though, isn’t it?” She watched his profile in silhouette as they started on the first bridge across Biscayne Bay. 

He nodded. “It is. I guess I’ve realized that I’m not invincible,” his lip tipped in something like humor. “It’s time I took care of my responsibilities,” he said. 

“Ranger, they’re not _responsibilities_ ; they’re your family.” she fought the urge to roll her eyes. 

Now he smiled in humor. “It’s my Army mindset tripping me up, as usual.” He glanced her way. “Good thing I have you to remind me.” 

She returned his smile as he slowed for a roadway merge, followed by a light. A song started up by a female singer that her sister Valerie liked. She could barely make out the lyrics until the words “Wrapped in Red” repeated in chorus. And now she remembered hearing the song at the Quaker Bridge mall when shopping with Val several weeks ago, because nothing said Thanksgiving is around the corner better than piped-in Christmas songs. Sighing, she recalled that the lyrics about loving from afar had reminded her of how she was missing Ranger. 

Of course, right now he was sitting next to her, relaxed behind the wheel in black slacks and a blue windbreaker. She blinked, as the song weighed her down with the thought that this might be the last time she’d see Ranger, perhaps for a long while. How would she be able to remind him of the good things in his life from far away? 

“Are you thinking of staying down here?” She took care to breathe evenly as she spoke. “To maybe be with Julie, more often?” 

“I’ve been giving it some thought,” he finally answered as the causeway re-entered a thin strip of land, then giving way to another bridge. “Of course, there are some important tradeoffs to consider,” his eyes briefly glanced her way. “How about you?” he asked. “You mentioned your fantasy of staying down here instead of returning to Trenton.” 

Stephanie squinted at his apparent redirection. Then she snorted, visualizing Ellie’s condo by the pool in contrast to her own apartment with a view of the dumpster. “Well, I admit the idea of living in genteel poverty in the sunshine instead of buried under snow with crappy heating has something to say for it,” she said as they exited the final bridge. As the car looped toward the south, through the preserve covering the north half of the Key, she watched the sway of leafy trees along the sparsely lit causeway. 

“Steph, why not just come down here for awhile and see what you think? You like it here, know the lay of the land, and have friends now. And you’ll figure out how to make money; you always do,” his lips softened in amusement. “Remember, you’re the one who was ballsy enough to convince me to get you started with bounty hunting.” He darted a glance her way. “Not a high likelihood scenario if I’d drawn it out. But yet you managed. And you brought in a high value skip on your first try.” 

She chuckled at hearing how he remembered their first meeting. She mostly remembered being sweaty, out of sorts, and out of other options. Oh, and being impatient with the surly but acceptably hunky gang-banger dude that Connie had insisted she meet. 

And, yes, obviously she’d said that aloud as Ranger launched into an actual laugh. 

“Babe, you never disappoint,” he said. “Think about it, though. If you’re worried about money, there’s always a job waiting for you at Rangeman, with a full salary. And it’s not a pity job,” he reassured, probably reading her mind as he so often did. “With your skills, we’d be glad to have you. You already know Silvio,” he slowed, turning off his high beams as a car entered the road in front of them. “And you know me,” he added yet again, his voice lower. 

“Yeah” she replied, glancing at him from the corners of her eyes. It was tempting; she wouldn’t lie. But, another thing she’d been able to clarify during recent, heat-assisted deep thought sessions was that working for Ranger had always felt “off.” She wasn’t at nearly the same physical or experience level as his employees. She believed he was being honest and trying to help her, but it still didn’t feel right. It was why she never stayed.

Perhaps understanding her remaining hesitation, he added, “As an alternative, you could work with Ariana. She was serious and you really would be good at it. I helped her set up her books, so I know she does bring in a respectable amount of money and pays decently. More than Vinnie, and without the pay gaps between his skips of the week.” He slowed the car again, this time to cross from the causeway into the town, leaving the preserve behind. “You could try it, and find something else later.”

Stephanie blinked. “Ranger, why are you trying to move me down here and find me a job?” 

“I thought that was obvious,” he turned to look at her, brows gathered into a straight line over his nose. “I’d like it if you were down here,” he continued while returning his attention to traffic. Turning onto a side road, they were minutes away from Ellie’s condo. 

“Why?” She could only manage to say, even as she realized the irony of being the monosyllabic person in the conversation. In contrast, Ranger had probably said more tonight than she’d ever heard him say at one time. Unless, maybe, it was a briefing to his team, with everyone in bulletproof vests and well-stocked tactical belts. 

She heard a quiet exhale of amusement. He shrugged. “I told you that I’m trying out a few different things. Casual clothes. Time with family. Talking.” He darted a glance her way, lips pulled with the shadow of a self-aware smile. “It’s obviously still a work in progress.” 

He slowed for a stop sign. “As to why… when I came down here for Julie, you were with Morelli again. And being away from it all, I saw that I kept disrupting that relationship. So, spending more time down here for Julie was right for her. And also right for you.” 

He turned toward her, face impassive but eyes betraying deeper emotions. “Though I did miss you. And then I saw you the other night.” He paused. “I almost let you be. But, as I’ve mentioned before, I’m an opportunist.” 

A car’s lights approached from behind them, ribboning the inside of the car briefly with light. Ranger’s gaze returned to traffic as he pulled through the intersection, starting down the dark dappled road, with Ellie’s condo complex in sight. 

“I’m glad you did,” Stephanie said. “Come find me, that is. I missed you, too.”

She saw something flicker across his face; probably just an effect of the meager streetlights peeking between the fluttering palms on this part of the road. “Me too,” he said as he turned into the building’s parking lot. Driving slowly over the crunch of shells and sand in the lot, he pulled into a spot near her building. Of course, this was Ranger, so it was a highly convenient spot that was never, ever available to anyone else. 

He turned off the ignition but left the key in, allowing the stereo’s music to lilt through the compartment. Given the plush leather of his car seats, it was almost like being in his living room at the top of Rangeman. 

But, with seatbelts. 

Which he quickly unlatched, both his and hers, leaning over to manage her belt as it retracted so it didn’t hit her. He then straightened, picking up her hand before she could lean forward for her purse. It was warm, secure, encompassing, and yet such a rare gesture from him. Unsure in the moment, she looked at him as he squared his shoulders. 

“Stephanie, what I’m trying to say is that, now that you’ve decided to let Morelli be in your past, I’d like to spend time with you. I’d like to show you the Miami that I know, take you out to dinner, try doing some things you’d like to do.” He paused. “Which would all be easier if you were here, too.”

Stephanie paused to poke herself in the leg to make sure she hadn’t drifted off to la-la land while they’d been driving. Because…. 

“Ranger, that sounds like _dating,_ ” she blurted, while images of two guns and a knife danced a sugarplum ballet in her head. 

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Yes, it does.” 

“But… you’ve told me several times that you’re not relationship material because of your lifestyle.” She could feel herself squint as she remembered Ranger strolling with another woman a couple nights ago. “Or, maybe it’s that I’m only _friendship_ material but nothing more, or maybe….”

Ranger raised his free hand and placed a warm index finger across her lips. And, darn, even the feel of his quieting finger felt so much better than it should. 

“Like I said, I’m adjusting my lifestyle, Babe.” He brushed his finger along her cheek, through a curl of her hair, resting it on her shoulder as he searched in her eyes. “Remember I told you that ‘someday’ we might be ready for each other. You’re not with Morelli and I’m more settled than I’ve been.” He tipped his head to the side, lips pursed as a precursor to a smile. “I even have a Batcave, of sorts, in North Beach.” 

She snorted quietly and swore she almost saw a twinkle in his attentive, dark eyes, though it might just be the reflection of the flashing holiday lights strung from the tree above their parking spot. 

And then she remembered. “But you have a girlfriend.” She frowned. “I saw you the other night, too, leaving the Three Palms Restaurant with her.”

It was Ranger’s turn to squint. Then his expression cleared. “Ah, Neomi.” With something that looked remarkably like chagrin, he explained, “My sister Carmen, who you haven’t met yet, has lately been setting me up with dates. Trying to help me with that lifestyle change I’m working on. That was one of her sorority sisters. Let’s just say that we didn’t click. And that Ariana, who apparently also knows Neomi, gave me an earful yesterday when she found out.”

He actually smiled. “I think the fact you were with me, tonight, is the only reason she didn’t smack me on the back of the head when I arrived.” 

“Your family smacks each other a lot,” she murmured, distracted by the thought that Ranger had been dating while down here. Had he been quietly dating in Trenton, too? No... well probably not. She’d never probed into who Jeanne Ellen Barrows really was, but that was a while ago. 

Then something else occurred to her, jarred loose by the thought of Ranger’s sister arranging dates for him. “Ranger, your family thinks I’m a lot closer to you than I think I am. Or that I have been, at least recently.”

“They know what I tell them,” he shrugged, his fingers idly twisting in her hair. “Also, they know you were at the hospital when I was there. And that Julie knows you, but hasn’t met any other women of my acquaintance. You may not have realized how significant all of that makes you.”

“Oh,” she nodded. That did make sense. She pulled her lower lip gently between her teeth as she reviewed her interactions with his family, tonight. Which made her think of something else. 

“Ranger,” she tilted her head. “What did your Abuelita say to you in the kitchen, earlier? I heard her say my name, and Julie’s, too.” 

He inhaled with a rueful expression and released the lock of hair he’d been languidly twirling against her neck, moving to adjust the collar of her jacket. “Among other things, she basically read me the riot act for waiting so long to introduce you to the family. And for not pushing harder to have a role in Julie’s life, until now.” He shrugged, releasing her collar as he focused somewhere in the distance. “And, in retrospect, I agree with her. Old habits die hard, though.” 

She squeezed the warm, calloused hand that still held hers. “You always have good reasons for what you do.” Her thumb began to move along the back of his hand. “I need to learn Spanish so I can defend you,” she murmured.

“Nothing to defend, Babe,” his eyes returned to hers, warm and dark. “Though I’ve always thought you’d make an excellent bodyguard with the right incentives,” he rumbled into the quiet of the car. Stephanie felt the depth of his voice resonate through her entire body, speeding her pulse and flushing her face. 

An older couple from the second floor strolled by, no doubt peering with interest into the tinted car windows. As they passed, Ranger gently pulled back his hands. “Let me walk you to your door, Steph.” 

“Okay,” she exhaled, reaching down for her purse while Ranger grabbed the keys and exited from his side of the car. By the time she made sure she had everything, he’d opened her door and extended his hand to help her out. In the brisk air, his hand was warm, a solid and safe transition into the night. She kept her hand in his as they strolled toward her apartment, both seeming to walk slower than they ever did in Trenton.

The crunch of their steps from the parking lot blended with the lazy, muted sound of surf in the distance. A group of resident frogs harrumphed back and forth between patches of plantings, while crickets creaked to each other in the distance. She spotted the elderly man who liked to sit at night on the bench near the cluster of mailboxes after walking his pair of Jack Russell Terriers. “Hi Mr. Spooner,” she waved at him as they went by. She couldn’t help smiling as he replied with his own wave that his dogs seemed to echo with their flappy, small ears. 

A half dozen yards later, they entered the shared courtyard for her building. The swimming pool lay placid as its cleaning robot plashed gently on its intake tube. Lights showed through drapes and blinds in about half of the units, with muffled sound from TVs and stereos providing a human contribution to the night. Songs from the Chipmunks Christmas album squawked from behind the door of one unit. A few doors down, they walked past her friend Larissa’s condo just as her neighbor’s voice joined her stereo in singing “Merry Christmas, Darling.” 

She saw Ranger’s lips tilt with amusement. “I don’t know how you managed it, but you fit right in, here.” 

She giggled, “I know. The only thing missing is Mrs. Bestler and the elevator. Oh, and Mr. Wolesky’s newspaper delivery.” 

“You probably don’t need an elevator since you’re on the first floor, but I could arrange to get newspapers delivered.” 

She paused, pulling back on his hand to stop him also. “You know, my friend Ellie is coming back in a week. And then selling her condo, so I’ll lose my groovy free vacation pad soon. Besides, I really do have a flight back north tomorrow.” 

“I know,” he replied, then proceeded to reel off the flight number, terminal, departure time, and ETA for arrival at Philadelphia International Airport. Plus arrival gate. Then, without a beat, he added, “But we can get you a replacement flight if you decided to stay a little longer.”

After a moment, he reached out and pushed her chin up with his fingers. “Earth to Steph.” 

She blinked. “Okay, first off, how did you find out my flight info?” 

“Babe,” he replied, and yeah that did say it all. 

“Yeah, okay, silly question. You know because you’re Ranger. But really, tomorrow is Christmas. If at all possible, I want to spend it with my family.” She tugged on his hand to resume moving toward her front door. She debated also informing him of her Grandma Mazur’s promise that, if Stephanie didn’t return for the holiday, she’d instead fly down and stay with her through Valentine’s day. But, before she had the chance, they reached the archway over the condo’s front door.

“Well, here we are,” she said, suddenly unsure of what she wanted to happen next. Well, no, that was a major fib. She knew _exactly_ what she wanted to happen next. Because, here she was with Ranger with one night left in a tropical paradise. A man who had been more talkative and hands-on than ever before. And, even more drop-dead handsome as he filled out his new Miami attire. 

Feeling herself flush from her core outward, she was already visualizing some of what she really wanted, and it involved getting the man in front of her _out_ of that new Miami attire. With glorious, breathless glimpses of his naked and sweat sheened muscles, proving yet again why she privately referred to him as The Wizard. Her lips on him, his mouth on her…. 

Confusingly, while she was gazing at his tempting lips, imagining what they could do, Ranger let go of her palm. Reaching inside his windbreaker, he fished something out of an inner pocket. “As I promised, I have a Christmas gift for you,” he said, handing over a foil-and-tissue wrapped packet with an economical flourish of his hands. “Merry Christmas, Babe.”

Calming down her breathing, her eyes widened as she unwrapped his gift and found another small, wrapped sachet-sized package inside, along with two corporate air vouchers for travel between Miami and Trenton-Mercer airport, in her name. She glanced at Ranger, then back down to the tickets. “There’s no date,” she said.

“You can use them when you want,” his baritone voice explained, brushing his hand along her shoulder. “I’m a realist, Steph, and I figured you still would go back north tomorrow. So, these make it easy to come back down and return when you want.” His full lips smiled, an intimate gesture. “There’s another gift inside,” he added, his free hand indicating the smaller wrapped bundle.

Ranger had made that one easy to open by not using any tape. When she pulled the filigreed paper open, she saw two silver charms. One was a miniature set of palm trees, the other was a tiny, delicate flamingo. “They’re beautiful,” she breathed. “Thank you,” she looked back into Ranger’s attentive, dark eyes. 

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you like them,” he said, his hand brushing through her hair along her shoulder. “One of my neighbors is a silversmith and I remembered you had a charm bracelet that you sometimes wear outside of work. I thought they’d remind you of your time here.” 

“They’re perfect,” she said as he leaned closer, his other hand coming up to her face. Tickets and wrapping paper in one hand, charms in the other, she brought them up to his shoulders, feeling his lips so kissably close.

And then, without feeling that she’d moved at all, she redeemed the promise of his lips. Soft and firm at the same time, they were as generous as she remembered. Her eyes drifted closed as she felt him close the remaining distance between them, his hand moving from her shoulder to her back, his lips parting so tauntingly to tease the seam of her lips with his tongue. 

As his other hand brushed along the outside of her ear, sending sparks through her body, her lips parted. And she moaned her appreciation into his slow, sensuous efforts. 

“Mmm,” his breath warmed her ear. “Steph, perhaps we should take this inside.” He finished his words with butterfly kisses from the top of her ear down to the lobe and she felt a melting sensation begin in her legs. 

But then, remembering other nights when he’d overwhelmed her with his body, with his lips, and then left her lonely in the next morning’s light, her arms firmed. “Ranger,” she paused, breathless, tilting her head to gaze into his questioning eyes. “Am I just another Nomi?” 

As his brows pulled together in puzzlement, she added, “Your date from the other night. I just want to know what this is.” She tamped down her urge to just say “never mind” and pull him back for another, even deeper kiss, knowing that this urge had been her undoing so many times before. With Joe, she’d kissed regardless of whether she’d wanted to claim all of him for herself. With Ranger, she’d kissed regardless of whether he’d wanted to claim her. She’d finally realized that neither had worked particularly well.

“Ah,” his expression cleared. “Neomi,” he corrected gently. “And no, Steph. You’re not another casual date,” he pulled a lock of her hair. “Think of Neomi as an attempted substitute for you. After all, until last night I thought you were probably planning to marry another man.” Then his eyebrow twitched a bit wickedly. “And, I thought you were in Trenton.” 

“Where I’ll be, again, tomorrow,” she murmured.

“But you’re here tonight,” he leaned back toward her, this time landing a closed-mouth kiss on her forehead, then gestured toward her door with his chin. “Let’s get you inside,” he half whispered, and she imagined there was a double-entendre there, somewhere, though her mind was a bit too preoccupied to figure out for sure.

Leaning back, she fumbled her keys out of her purse and relinquished them to Ranger’s offered hand by habit. He trailed his remaining hand down her arm and then he stepped forward, unlocked the door, and opened it. He stepped into the entryway muttering “Good dead-bolt door, but no security system” the way someone else might comment “nice potpourri.” Looking around, he scanned as he always did in Trenton, though it felt decidedly out of place here in quiet, tropical paradise. 

Following the path of his eyes, she spotted the remains of this morning’s donuts and coffee, a stack of microwave meal boxes still to be recycled, and strewn bags from today’s quick holiday shopping. Well, he was used to her distinctive interior design theme of “casual feminine disarray.” She leaned against the doorframe by habit, fanning herself, as he finished sweeping the living room and kitchen, padded back to the bedroom, and checked the bathroom.

“Coast is clear, Babe” he said, returning to where she stood, which she knew was code for _you can come in now, put down your purse, and do the other totally mysterious stuff that you do before I kiss you again._

Putting down her purse and her presents before removing Ellie’s coat, she smiled. “No crazy, gun-toting geckos in the closet, or frogs with teeny, tiny rocket launchers?” she asked.

“None that I saw.” His eyes, almost black in the entryway lighting, seemed to drink in her features as he pulled her to him. “But I might need to stay the night, just to make sure.” His eyes, languid and deep, gazed into hers as though there was nothing else in his world to see. “What do you think?”

“I think we should close the front door,” she replied, toeing it shut while she spoke. 

“Good idea,” he said, reaching behind her to twist the deadbolt. “What other ideas do you have? Because I have a few as well,” he rumbled as his lips reached to kiss her yet again. He pressed her against the door, his entire body enwrapping hers. 

Her body sang as she felt him, warm and solid, against her, his hands cradling her face, his manhood already straining through his trousers. She reached up, running her fingers through his hair, knowing that he found that particularly sensuous. Her hips moved forward of their own accord, further greeting his body, while her free hand roved down toward his muscular rear, grinding him into her. 

“Mmm,” he growled softly. “Sure you don’t want to accidentally miss your flight tomorrow?” his lips bussed against her ear. 

“No. Must go,” she whispered as his lips returned to hers. “Christmas.”

He reached his hands down, holding her while turning them in place. He then began slowly walking her backward toward the bedroom. “Then let’s do what we can to ensure you return soon,” he replied, voice low with desire. 

“Okay,” she agreed, feeling his fingers tease under her top, heated against her skin. Inspired, she reached up to push off his windbreaker. And then down to tease his polo out from his pants. He inhaled and she felt the frame of his ribs expand with his breath, rippling the muscles under her fingers. She continued pushing up his shirt, smoothing her hands over his abs and up to the pleasure of his masculine nipples. 

Then, he raised his arms so she could finish the job. “I’m all yours, Babe,” he voiced low in her ear as he brought his arms back down, reaching for the hem of her shirt. 

_Oh boy_ , she thought. What she could do with a Ranger who was all hers for the whole night. She smiled against his lightly stubbled cheek, inhaling his distinctive scent. Then he turned them, now pulling them toward the bed, and she heard herself moan as she landed on top of him, skin against skin. 

Good thing her flight wasn’t until close to noon tomorrow, she mused, and then all thoughts escaped from her head as she joined wholeheartedly in Ranger’s talented and dedicated efforts to give her a reason to return to Miami.

_To be continued…_

* * *

_Notes_ : _Merry Christmas, Darling_ is by the Carpenters. Their typical pop genre isn’t my favorite, but I love how Karen’s voice makes that particular song elegant, wishful, and caressingly sweet at the same time. The version of _Sleigh Ride_ I imagined for this chapter is by Diana Krall. _Wrapped in Red_ is sung by Kelly Clarkson. 


	7. Christmas Wrapping

* * *

**Chapter 7: Christmas Wrapping**

Stephanie snugged her mother’s spare wool sweater more securely around her shoulders. She’d forgotten that the whole northern exposure of her parents’ living room was in the heating system’s no-man’s land, leaving its occupants to huddle like penguins in the season’s brisk drafts. 

Of course, normally by this time of year she’d have spent the past few weeks since Thanksgiving getting used to the winter wonderland of Trenton’s December weather. And also refreshing her internal map of the heating vent locations in her childhood home. Not to mention having her winter wardrobe locked-and-loaded instead of probably still in vacuum bags in the drawers under her bed. 

The fact was, she halfway felt like maybe she was still having a nap on this morning’s plane up from Miami. Or better yet, having a strangely overcast, Trenton themed dream while still in bed, wrapped in Ranger’s strong arms. Of course, if that were true, she’d be dreaming of someplace luxurious and warm, cocooned in the sensual heat that she always felt when close to him. 

Legs wrapped around legs, arms embracing, lips swollen with desire….

She closed her eyes, inhaling… and nope. The air was chill and dry, infused with the scents of her father’s after shave and her mother’s cooking. She reopened her eyes; she was definitely in Trenton. 

She’d texted Ranger shortly after her flight landed, to let him know she’d made it. And again, as her parents’ house drew near, just as an anchor. His replies, efficient as always, nevertheless gave her the sense that he was somehow on this journey back home with her. Though she already knew in her heart that he’d made the decision to relocate to Miami, at least making it his home base going forward. 

She felt her breath hitch as it had done countless times on the plane. And again during the long drive up from Trenton International, while her father drove them past mile after mile of towering snow banks and charcoal shadowed, leafless trees. 

Though it felt unnervingly sad, she wasn’t sure why it would be different having Ranger in Trenton for only a handful of months during the year. After all, she hadn’t seen him hardly at all during the beginning of this year. And bookending the year, she hadn’t seen him at all since the end of summer, after Scrog. 

But, somehow, in her mind’s eye he’d always been there. Whenever she’d seen a Rangeman SUV go by, it was as though Ranger had touched her. Whenever one of the guys had stopped by Vinnie’s for paperwork and a check, they’d taken her greeting back to him. She’d always known she could drive to the Rangeman building, use her key fob up to the seventh floor, and be relieved of whatever worries she had. 

Not if he wasn’t living there anymore, a traitorous voice intoned in her mind. Then a different, quieter voice asked what it would be like if  _ Stephanie  _ stayed in Miami and was here in Trenton for only a few months out of the year. 

She looked around at her childhood home, with its Christmas tree surrounded by wads of discarded wrapping paper and piled-up gifts. Her father could be seen through the doorway into the den, where he focused on some college bowl game on TV. Meanwhile her sister Valerie and family occupied the connected living and dining rooms. Her mother and Grandma Mazur were in the kitchen debating whether to put marshmallows on the candied yams. 

All of this said “home” just as much as her own apartment with Rex’s squeaking wheel. What would it be like if she were only here for holidays and visits, rather than full time? 

Now there was something to think about. 

“Girls,” Valerie called out. “Let’s help Grandma and Grampa Plum out by picking up the wrapping paper that’s all over the floor.” Of course, by “let’s help” she meant that her daughters should actually do the work. Now starting to show her newest pregnancy after four months, Val was taking advantage of all opportunities to stay seated. And, to be fair, she was still busy picking glitter out of her youngest daughter Lisa’s thick, Dutch-cut hair after an ill-advised gift envelope had sprayed its sparkly goodness all over the chubby toddler. 

“Hey, Angie.” Val’s daughter Mary Alice called her sister, who’d started to diffidently sort through the discarded wrapping paper and ribbons strewn across the floor. “Turn up the music. It’s the  _ Run Run Rudolph  _ song.” As the bouncy music ramped up, both girls started dancing in the wadded paper, red and green LED Christmas bulbs swaying from the headbands Stephanie had brought from Florida. 

Smiling, feeling her own head start to bop to the rhythm, Stephanie was pleased that her headgear gifts had been such a hit. Of course, her father in his recliner wasn’t wearing his, though Stephanie privately thought it would help his concentration. Valerie and her daughters, though, along with Grandma Mazur had all put on their respective holiday headgear immediately. 

She’d long ago figured out that the trick to finding satisfying gifts was to know what joys you shared with other people and shopping with that in mind. And, also, it helped to include the gift receipt whenever possible. 

Thinking of gifts, she scooted the bag containing her own presents closer to her chair. These days, her mother gave them all Macy’s shopping bags to take gifts home, having finally run out of her impressive stash of Bamberger’s department store bags. Probably those bags had become collector’s items by now and her whole family had missed the opportunity to cash in on a craze for obsolete department store paraphernalia. Which was maybe why they still lived in a one-bathroom home in the ‘Burg instead of a mini-mansion down the shore. 

Stephanie shrugged; that type of second-hand riches was something other people’s families pursued. Instead, the Plums were more likely to case yard sales to inspect other peoples’ cast-off treasures, carefully choosing knick-knacks, used kitchen implements, and car accessories that were maybe even worth the two dollars charged for them. 

Her attention returned to the room as the stereo, and her nieces, started on  _ Little Drummer Boy _ . Looking down, she took a quick inventory of her own Macy’s bag of Christmas riches. On top of the pile were vouchers to Mr. Alexander’s hair salon. Those were from her sister, who apparently had actually been listening to Stephanie’s hair dressing woes during one of their phone calls over the past couple of weeks. Go, Val. 

They were very timely, indeed, she mused while patting the rat’s nest that had escaped her Christmas elf hat. Yup, sun- and salt-teased hair, meet dry cold wind. The ultimate in Don King inspired hairdos. Maybe she could even get an appointment tomorrow if she woke up early enough. 

She looked back into her bag. Underneath the vouchers was a booklet of movie theater tickets, and then a boxed set of nail polish in different shades of pinks and reds, named after roses. There was the annual dress-up gift from her mother: a silk blouse and matching scarf, this year. And, underneath all of that was the Dolce & Gabbana perfume set with skin cream. She snorted; it looked like some of her family was trying to get her prepped for date night. 

Clearly, though, the rest of her family was as goofy as she was, she thought as she pulled out “Shaky Shaky Hamster, just add batteries.” Since she’d taken care of the batteries right after opening the box, she flipped on S.S. Hamster’s switch and set the six-inch-tall plush, vibrating figure on the side table. She admired his dancing style as he wobbled and shook around, flippy forearms bobbing and neck bell ringing, all in time to a built-in, tinny recording of “Shake, shake, shake your booty.” 

Even if she hadn’t seen the “To / From” tag on the box, she’d have known that S.S. Hamster was from her Grandma. Truly an inspired gift, she giggled quietly as she watched him boogie down against a stack of  _ Reader’s Digest  _ magazines. She wondered if she and S.S. Hamster could teach Rex this dance so they could have disco party nights in her apartment.

She also wondered if her Grandma had been the one to take her nieces holiday shopping, given that their gift to her was the box labeled “Animal Butt Magnets.” (“They’re for your fridge, Aunt Steph,” Angie had earnestly explained as though she worried where her aunt might mistakenly use them, otherwise.)

Beyond that, rounding out the practical portion of her holiday, there was a new set of kitchen towels, a Ghost Busters ceramic mug, and a set of cork-bottom coasters from The Funplex down in Mount Laurel. (“Next time, we are absolutely  _ not  _ taking the Fun Twister,” Val had squinted at her daughters, a squeamish look passing briefly over her features.)

“Hey, perfect timing,” Angie called out. “It’s the  _ Christmas Wrapping  _ song.” Mary Alice hooted, lifted up the gift paper she’d just stacked and threw it in the air. After looking around, Angie got in the spirit and booted the pile of ribbons next to her, scattering them into strips of color on the floor around her.

“Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas,” her nieces began singing the song’s refrain along with the stereo. “Merry Christmas. But I think I’ll miss this one, this year.” The girls sang and scatted along with the joyful rush of instrumentation until the next lyrics began, prancing in the living room like elves. Or, perhaps still like Rudolph the Reindeer in Mary Alice’s case.

As they sang, fumbling humorously over the rapidfire words in the song, Stephanie hummed along. It was one of the seasonal tunes that she and her best friend Mary Lou had cranked on the car radio in high school. Energetic, it was also a bit rebellious with its description of a single woman, her frenetic lifestyle, and her choice to be alone on Christmas Eve. And then, after all, it had a happy ending since she found the guy she’d wanted to date in the grocery line that very night. It had been a grown-up, urban romance that Stephanie could fully imagine in her teens.

Yet now, she thought it would be lonely to spend all of Christmas by herself. Not rebellious independence, at all. Like Thanksgiving, it was a holiday made for family. It was a time to remember being a child, while taking a peek at what older age might bring. In her case, of course, one look at her Grandma Mazur was all she needed to have a fairly strong idea of what was in store for her. Though, she resolved yet again to avoid becoming a notorious funeral crasher in her golden years. After all, one could indulge one’s quite sensible curiosity— and even experience the righteousness of having outlived a rival or a scoundrel— without prying open caskets, toppling floral arrangements, or otherwise starting a mortuary riot.

With that thought, she mused that Christmas was also a time to remember that, even if your own family wasn’t perfect, they were here for you when you needed them. The way her father, taciturn and gruff, had actually been happy to spend a few hours driving on cold, icy roads to retrieve her from the airport earlier today. The way her mother, nag as she might, always welcomed her prodigal Stephanie when she showed up for nothing more than to do her laundry or cadge an unscheduled free dinner. The way her sister never held it against her that she’d been inconvenienced— and even abducted— as fallout from Stephanie’s crazy life. 

Which made her think of Ranger. And yeah, okay, she’d pretty much been thinking of Ranger every few minutes since he’d kissed her goodbye this morning at Miami International airport.  _ Mmm _ , and  _ what _ a kiss….

She exhaled again, realizing that the warmth currently suffusing her soul was because she was so glad to know that he’d spent the holiday with his family. She was fairly sure that he had spent some past holidays alone, whether due to a mission or to his self-chosen isolation. Like his mother, she was so glad that he was choosing a new path. And she was especially glad she’d had the opportunity last night to spend a moment with him on that path, along with his family.

Blinking away her blurry vision, she saw that her nieces had gathered larger pieces of the snowflake and palm tree paper she’d used for the gifts she’d brought back from Florida. They weren’t being as careful, though, with the rest of the paper. The paper with skiing dachshunds in Santa hats had been Val’s favorite this year. Grandma had been responsible for the Gilmore Girls paper, which was actually cool because it clearly featured several different flavors of donuts along with full coffee pots. Meanwhile, her mother had opted for the standard Christmas tree and garland motif. 

“Angie, Mary Alice,” Stephanie’s mother peeked from the kitchen, “Try to fold the big pieces so we can donate them to the nursing home where Aunt Tootsie’s husband is.”

Valerie rolled her eyes from her perch in the dining room, which was really just the space between the living room and the kitchen. “Mom, Sisters of Mercy hasn’t accepted used wrapping paper donations since you were a child.” Absent-mindedly settling Lisa on her other knee, she glanced at Stephanie. “Last year they tossed the bags in the recycling bin out back before we even left the place. I swear I saw scraps of Grandma’s WWE Smackdown wrapping paper sticking out of the bin as we drove away.” 

“Wow that’s a shame,” Stephanie shrugged, not wanting to hazard a guess on whether they threw out all the donated wrapping paper, or just the WWE pattern. While it was always fun to check out hot, sweaty wrestlers, she could imagine that some of the elderly pacemakers might not have survived the excitement. 

The music changed again, and Val’s daughters started singing “I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus” right as Albert Kloughn toddled down the stairway from the second floor. Stephanie grimaced slightly as she realized that she hadn’t even noticed that the doughy man was missing. 

“About time,” her father grumbled as he left the den to head upstairs to the bathroom.  _ Hmm _ , maybe her family  _ should  _ have cornered the collectibles market in  Bamberger's shopping bags, after all, and taken the money to move down the shore to a house with two bathrooms. 

As her daughters continued singing about Mommy and Santa, Val held out her hand to Albert and cooed, “Now, we know that nobody but my Cuddle Umpkins, here, touches these lips.” Albert ducked his head and Stephanie was able to confirm that his embarrassed flush had spread all the way to his notable bald spot. Unstoppable, Val continued, “Come here, Smoochie Bear.” 

At that moment, Stephanie’s stomach growled loud enough that Val, Albert, and her nieces all paused to look her way. “Oops,” she said, realizing that she hadn’t really eaten— other than a couple bags of airline pretzels— since breakfast with Ranger. 

_ And here we go _ , she thought. Because her thoughts had turned to Ranger, yet again. He’d somehow figured out that the Corner Café in Key Biscayne’s diminutive downtown was one of her favorite stops. (Oh, who was she kidding? Of course he’d figured that out. He was Ranger, so  _ duh _ .) What was truly amazing, though, was that he’d managed their time this morning so they’d actually been able to stop in for a final pastry and coffee run. Apple turnovers! Cinnamon sugar rolls! Chocolate coconut donuts! 

Which would be just the starting point for the sugar and fat she’d need to make it through the next week. Or two. Or three.

Well, first things first. She flipped off the switch on S.S. Hamster’s back, tucked him safely back in her shopping bag, then threaded her way past the dining table toward the kitchen. Where she found her mother and Grandma Mazur still arguing about marshmallows. 

“Mother, they’re fruit-flavored,” Mrs. Plum shook her head in exasperation, reaching for what looked suspiciously like an early cocktail. Or maybe something normally on-the-rocks, but without the icy rocks to water it down. “We’re not putting them on the yams, and that’s final.” She took an emphatic sip and then slammed the glass down on the counter. “Hi Stephanie,” she sighed, not quite able to change her tone of voice in time for the greeting.

While Stephanie mumbled a reply, Grandma Mazur winked at her. Then she grabbed the bag of marshmallows. “Since you don’t want them for dinner, Helen, I'm taking the bag upstairs with me while I try on those leopard print, booty-shaping leggings I got from the Shopping Channel. Gotta emphasize the positive the next time I go clubbing. Hunks these days want something to grab onto.” 

“Dear Lord,” Stephanie’s mother said, lifting her glass again, while Grandma Mazur held the open bag out to Stephanie. 

“Try some,” her grandmother said. “These babies go with anything, no matter what your mother says.”

Stephanie gratefully took the heaping handful that her grandmother poured into her hands. “Mmm,” she half moaned, feeling the burst of lemon, lime, and orange on her tongue, mingled with the always enjoyable marshmallow texture. Just enough to tame the infamous beast of her stomach, At least for now. Grandma Mazur always knew what was needed. 

“These  _ are  _ good,” she said, mentally adding a note to herself to see if she could find these marshmallows the next time she went shopping. She nibbled her lip, then turned to her grandmother. “Being honest, though, I agree with Mom that they’d be weird on the dinner yams.” Privately she thought they’d be cool as a side dish, though she suspected her mother wouldn’t agree to that idea, either. In any case, it wasn’t something she felt like arguing about. 

“Oh well, more for me,” Grandma Mazur smiled with a minor denture-adjusting lip pucker. “See you gals in a bit for my fashion show,” she turned in a movement that Stephanie suspected was a pirouette, though she found it hard to not reach out as though the older woman was about to tumble. With any other person in Grandma Mazur’s age and condition, it would’ve been a possibility. Of course, she’d dealt with the uncanny Mazur luck for long enough to not worry.

“Stephanie,” her mother interrupted her thoughts. “Can you help with the salad? I’m running behind now.” Her sigh was strong enough to blow hair away from her face. 

“Sure,” Stephanie answered, moving to the counter where the salad ingredients had already been laid out in parallel formation along with the cutting board. It was oddly reminiscent of how she’d seen some Rangemen set out their weapons, one by one, prior to suiting up for a job.  She started to tear lettuce into a colander, snorting as she imagined her mother reviewing her food arsenal for suitability to the meal’s requirements. Standing at attention, she’d select the tomatoes and carrots, but dismiss the garlic as inappropriate given the close quarters of the dinner mission. 

As she imagined her mother suiting up for a redecoration job with the guys, she did giggle slightly. 

“Honey, it’s good you got back for the holidays,” her mother said while pulling her famous Jello salad from the refrigerator. She squinted at the pan, holding a dinner knife as a substitute ruler, and then began carving the pan of Jello into even rectangles before putting each piece on a small plate. “Your grandmother thought you were purposely staying longer so you could ‘hang with all the hotties’,” her voice incongruously finger-quoted the last phrase. 

“Unfortunately, all the hot guys were busy at work while I was at the beach,” Stephanie said, rinsing the lettuce in the sink. It was certainly true of the friends she’d met. Then, unbidden, she visualized Ranger at work in his Rangeman office from Thanksgiving through Christmas Eve. So, she was telling the truth about him, also. And now she was thinking of Ranger yet again.

She wondered what he was having for dinner tonight as he monitored his control room in Miami. She pictured a clone of the Trenton office, with its large windows looking out over Trenton, its floor of cubes, and the control room with its wall of monitors. To give it the feel of a different location, she mentally erased Junior and Chester Deuce’s Olympic rowing team banner from the wall outside the breakroom. But that just made it look like Rangeman when they’d painted the walls last summer. 

Okay, she needed to ask Ranger to give her a tour of the Miami office the next time she went down. Which, she admitted to herself, meant that she did plan to use those tickets to visit him. She exhaled, then looked down only to realize that she’d torn far more lettuce than it was likely that her family would want for salad. Setting the colander in the sink to rinse the lettuce, and then dumping the lettuce into her mother’s salad bowl, Stephanie turned to the carrots.

“Are you seeing Joe Morelli tomorrow?” her mother interrupted her thoughts. “You should invite him to dinner. I’m making a casserole with the leftover ham, along with those sweet rolls that you like from the bakery.” 

“Thanks Mom,” she said, realizing that she’d almost pulled the carrot peeler over her thumb instead of the first carrot. “I’m not sure what I’m doing tomorrow. But Joe and I broke up, so please don’t invite him to dinner on my behalf.” She hoped that sounded final, since she didn’t want to go into a discussion of boyfriends. Of course, having been away for a while, she’d discounted how focused her mother could be on the topic. 

“I know, honey,” her mother said. “But you two always get back together again. You might want to check on him before he slips away for good, this time. I heard from Mrs. Marlinowski that she saw him on what looked like a double date at Pino’s a couple weeks ago. And Mrs. Amos said her husband recently saw him with Mimi Kasem’s daughter in the food hall by the Garden before a Ranger’s game.” 

“Mom, really. We’ve broken up.” Stephanie squinted, renewing her attention on the carrots.

They worked in silence for a while, letting the sounds of  _ Jingle Bell Rock _ from the living room fill the air.

“You know,” her mother resumed. “You could definitely do worse than Joe. He’s got a good, respectable job and a house of his own.” She paused to glance sideways at Stephanie. “After everything that happened  _ before… _ ,” Mrs. Plum waved her spoon as though shoveling the past to the side. “Well, you know. Anyhow, I wasn’t sure about you dating him again when you first started. But he’s changed his ways and grown up. Most of all, he likes you.” 

“Yeah,” Stephanie agreed vaguely, wondering why that didn’t seem like enough, anymore.

Her mother continued. “Beyond that, he doesn’t seem to mind that you’re divorced.” No doubt seeing clouds presaging a storm on the horizon of her daughter’s face, Mrs. Plum hurried to add, “Not that it’s a problem these days, of course. Just look at Albert and Val. I think he was happy to find someone a bit more mature. He treats her well, and they’re very happy. Not everyone gets another chance like that.” 

Having recently left a room where Albert was happily being Val’s “Cuddle Umpkins” and “Love Dumpling,” she shuddered briefly. She wasn’t exactly sure where her discomfort originated, since she had no problem with the men in her life calling her nicknames, like “Cupcake,” “Bombshell,” or even “Babe.” Each one was special to the person who used it. 

Then it dawned on her that she didn’t have any affectionate nicknames for the men in her life. Of course, other than “Batman” for Ranger. And she couldn’t even imagine being with a man who’d consent to being her “Pudding” or “Smoodgie Woodgie.” 

_ Well, huh.  _ She absent mindedly poured the cut carrots into the salad bowl and picked up the bag of croutons. 

Meanwhile her mother continued her sales pitch. “You know, honey, you’re in the prime of your life to have children. And it’s good for children to have a father.” 

As though on cue, Lisa started to cry from the other room, a full-bodied howl, while Mary Alice trotted into the kitchen, holding her finger. 

“Grammy, do you have bandaids? I got a papercut.”

After a quick peek at the girl’s finger, Mrs. Plum stationed Mary Alice under the sink’s running water. She then reached into a cabinet, pulled out a surprisingly large box labeled “In Case of Kitchen Accidents,” and retrieved a bandage.

As Stephanie mused that she should have a box like that in her kitchen— well, if she started actually cooking— Val appeared in the doorway. Bouncing her still wailing youngest daughter, Val asked, “Is everything okay?” She freed one hand to brush her hair behind her ear, almost losing Lisa as the little girl squirmed sideways in her arms. 

“Just a little owie,” Mary Alice replied, holding up her still bloodied finger and the wrapping it in the paper towel that Mrs. Plum handed her along with the bandaid. 

At that moment, a hissing sound erupted from the stove, heralding a boiling froth that was spilling over the side of a pan. 

“Son of a sea monkey!” Mrs. Plum exclaimed, rushing back over to the stove. Stephanie, sensing that Val was about to hand over Lisa, instead went to help Mary Alice with her bandaid. Perhaps aware that her aunt had just dodged her child-bouncing opportunity, Lisa momentarily quieted, squinched her face, and then let out a truly ear-shattering scream. 

At which point Grandma Mazur appeared, wearing her promised leopard-print tights. “Check this out. Who wants to join me for the New Year’s Eve dance party at Club Caboose?”

“Mother…,” Mrs. Plum blinked, holding a still frothing pan in one hand and a towel in another. 

“Grandma M., looking good,” Mary Alice enthused. As Stephanie finished applying her bandaid, her youngest niece, Lisa, ceased crying in her mother’s arms. Then, a look of surprise overtaking her still chubby face, she let out a thunderous belch.

“That’s it, Lee-Loo Boo-Boo,” Val cooed to her daughter. “Let it all out.” She resumed bouncing Lisa, who was now smiling. Reaching up with plump fingers waving, the girl snared and pulled the hair that Val had recently tucked back. And now Stephanie knew why Val was wearing an unusually not-stylish, stretchy exercise headband and also how hanks of hair kept escaping its confines. 

Mary Alice inspected her finger bandage, then smiled at Stephanie. “Thanks Aunt Steph. And Grandma P.” She then turned, tossed her long hair with whinny, and trotted back toward the living room. 

“Gotta love that girl,” Grandma Mazur said, watching Mary Alice leave the room, followed by Val. “So, Steph, want to join me for the big New Year’s Eve party?”

“Let me think about it,” Stephanie said, still blurry after having returned home only a few hours ago. “But you’re right about those tights. They definitely emphasize the positive.” 

And she wasn’t kidding. Though it wasn’t clear whether Grandma Mazur’s ready-to-party look was more due to the technicolor leopard print of her new tights or the barely-there length of her sixties inspired micro-mini dress. Or maybe it was the way she swayed slightly on her hips to stay balanced on her gold flecked, platform shoes. One of these days, she had to figure out where her grandmother got her fashion ideas. Was there maybe a  _ Teen Vogue  _ or  _ Seventeen  _ magazine for seniors who liked to party?

“I know, right? I’m definitely getting lucky in this outfit.” Her grandmother fairly beamed while, in the background, Stephanie heard the glug of her mother refilling her cocktail glass. “Anyhow,” Grandma Mazur continued, “let me know if you want my plus-one ticket for New Year’s. If not, I’ll give it to Sally.”

Stephanie scattered croutons in the salad and started mixing them into the lettuce and carrots. “You know what, Grandma? Why don’t you give the ticket to Sally, and maybe I can come over to see both of you all dressed up before you go out.” 

“You bet. I’ll call Sally first thing tomorrow. Club Caboose is the ‘happening dance venue’ in Trenton,” she winked as she spoke in a fake announcer voice. “They even say so on their ads. So you know he’ll be thrilled.” Her grandmother turned toward the living room. “Oh, love that song,” she said, cupping her hand around her ear. “I’m going to go practice my dance floor moves.” 

“You go, Grandma,” Stephanie said as she drizzled her father’s favorite Wishbone dressing on the salad and gave it one more toss. 

While she and her grandmother had been talking, her mother had turned her attention to the oven. Carefully balancing, she pulled out the glazed ham. Stephanie inhaled the smell that meant Christmas dinner and smiled. 

“It must be difficult to be back after being away for so many weeks,” her mother said, facing away while she transferred the ham to a platter for Stephanie’s father to carve. 

“Yeah, I forgot how cold it is during the winter,” Stephanie pulled open the bag of Costco dinner rolls and poured them into a napkin-lined basket for the table. 

Mrs. Plum paused to remove her oven mitts for a deep sip of amber liquid from her glass. Her face was more relaxed as she put it down. And the glass was definitely emptier. “You know, I halfway expected you to call, this morning, to tell us you’d missed your flight back.” 

Stephanie blinked, knowing that she’d certainly been tempted. Even before last night with Ranger. And this morning, when the softness of Ranger’s kiss at the security line had melted her even before she’d seen the unusual gentleness in his eyes as he’d released her. He’d still been there after she’d passed through, alert as the soldier he’d been, eyes following her. And she’d almost turned back. Almost, until he’d nodded and stepped back, lips tilted into a smile as she finger-waved goodbye. 

Seeing her mother’s assessing gaze, Stephanie knew she’d taken more than the usual amount of time to answer. “I admit I did think about it,” she replied carefully. “I even got a job offer. Two, actually.” 

George Michael’s voice sang  _ Last Christmas  _ in the other room, accompanied by the sounds of Grandma Mazur trying to teach her nieces a line dance that she’d learned last month at the Banana Cabaret. Which made Stephanie wonder at the propriety of the dance, but she figured Val was in charge of what was suitable for her daughters. And, apparently their grandmother hadn’t reached that threshold yet. 

Her mother began pouring Italian meatballs— the accompaniment to any holiday dinner at the Plums— into a chafing dish. “Were they better jobs than you have at your father’s cousin’s place?” As usual, Mrs. Plum refused to say Vinnie’s name. “Would you get a regular paycheck?” 

Stephanie nibbled her lip, then answered, “Yeah, one of them has a regular paycheck. It sounded like it might be enough to actually get by, down there” At least, that’s what she’d inferred from Ranger and his sister Ariana. 

“Tell me it doesn’t involve guns and death threats, and working with ex-cons, and I’ll give you my blessing.” And, speaking of blessings, she didn’t miss her mother turning away to surreptitiously sketch out the signs of the cross. 

“Wait, what?” Stephanie felt her eyebrows arch toward her forehead as though searching for clues in her tousled hair. “And, Mom, I don’t work with ex-convicts. I arrest them. And I work with ex-military, at least sometimes.” 

Her mother nodded, turning toward her. “Stephanie, all I ever want for my daughters— all your father and I want— is for you to be safe and happy. I was lucky enough to find that right here in the ’Burg, with your father, as his wife and your mother.” 

Mrs. Plum’s hand stilled before she once again reached for her glass. Instead, she idly began organizing the serving bowls and platters into rows on the countertop. Plates of Jello salad congregated in their own group, off to the side. Green bean casserole lined up in formation with candied yams and dinner rolls; Italian meatballs, salad, and mac-and-cheese for the kids formed their own queue. The glazed ham was on its own, with little cloves stuck in it like it was wearing one of those dotted, green-screen action suits for Hollywood; dinner’s heroic action figure was primed and ready for its next scene.

Stephanie’s mother continued speaking while she arranged bowls and platters. “When you and Val first married, I thought you were both all set, but of course Steve and Richard (“that dirtbag, Dickie Orr,’ Stephanie silently substituted in her mind) both turned out to be bad husbands. I guess boys raised in the ’Burg aren’t trained to be good men, these days.” 

“Mom,” Stephanie began, though she wasn’t sure what she planned to say. Because, really, where to start? But her mother held up her hand before she could formulate her thoughts.

“Let me finish, honey,” Mrs. Plum glanced at Stephanie, eyes seeming to glimmer in the kitchen’s old-fashioned fluorescent light. “I’ve come to see that Albert is good for your sister. And, I hope you find someone who’s right for you. And, since I guess it won’t Joe, I’m pretty sure it won’t be someone from the ’Burg. Though a mother can try.” 

A surprising, fleeting smile lit the older woman’s face momentarily. Then she leaned forward, catching Stephanie’s eyes, “Honey, you’ve been so much happier on the phone these past few weeks. That’s the daughter I remember and want to see, again. Even if I can only see you on holidays. Because… nice weather, a good job, maybe a nice man with an equally nice tan,” her mother’s gaze was almost mischievous and Stephanie briefly wondered if her flight, this morning, had accidentally landed in some parallel, Pod People land. 

Her mother shrugged. “With all of that, if I were young and single, I’d almost want to move down there myself.” 

“Mother!” Stephanie couldn’t help exclaim while, at the same time, she wondered if her mother was demonstrating the first signs of morphing into Grandma Mazur. Ranger was right; she came from a long line of scary women. 

“Anyway, it’s something to think about,” Mrs. Plum eerily echoed the phrase that was in Stephanie’s mind. Then, standing up, her mother said, “Now, help me carry this all to the table for dinner.”

“Okay, Mom.” Stephanie tucked her shock into a corner of her mind for later review, and picked up the ham platter, since it was heaviest. Trailing her mother, who had the green bean casserole, she walked into the dining room. From which there was a framed view of her grandmother teaching Angie and Mary Alice a dance, with chairs, that looked suspiciously like another one from the Banana Cabaret. 

“Jesus Christ in a bathtub,” Mrs. Plum exclaimed. “Mother, what are you doing? Oh, never mind. Dinner is served. Someone bring those chairs back to the table. And Angie, can you go ask Grandpa Plum to take out the earphones and come to carve the ham?” 

And, with that, the family began to coalesce around the dining table and Stephanie’s stomach let out a profound, ready-to-eat growl. It really all smelled delicious. Stephanie sat down in her usual chair next to her grandmother, with her nieces on her other side. Her father said grace, and then began to carve the ham. It was Christmas dinner at the Plums, whether or not they were Pod Plums or the real thing. 

_ To be continued… _

* * *

_ Notes: Christmas Wrapping  _ (by The Waitresses) and  _ Last Christmas _ (by Wham!) are in my “go to” holiday mix when the whole season starts to make me nuts. Also, I have a secret fondness for  _ Little Drummer Boy _ , since my otherwise staid and uptight grandfather thought it was hilarious to put that song on the house-wide speakers first-thing on Christmas morning (like 6AM) to wake everyone.  _ Rumpa-pum-pum!  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story disclaimers and background can be found at the start of Chapter 1.


	8. Please Come Home for Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story disclaimers and background can be found at the start of Chapter 1.

* * *

**Chapter 8: Please Come Home for Christmas**

Snow from the parking lot crusted off the wheels of Stephanie’s suitcase, landing in dirty clumps on the tile of her building’s entryway. As she stood waiting, the creak and rumble of the aging elevator was a welcome sound, since it meant that it was actually working. No need to lug suitcases up the stairs to her apartment.

She reached her mittened hand up to warm her nose and stomped her feet. More clumps of snow released from her boots and pants, plopping on the entry tiles. Hearing a sniffle behind her, she looked back at her father, who was rolling her other suitcase while also lugging her impressively large back of leftovers. 

“Thanks, Dad. Sorry to drag you back out into the cold, tonight. I had no idea it had started to snow.”

“It’s okay, Pumpkin,” he replied in his usual gruff voice. Then amusement lightened his craggy gaze. “Besides, it’s a good excuse to get out for a bit.” 

Stephanie snorted in agreement. She’d had her full exposure to go-go dancing, whinnying, and “Smooshie Mooshy” talk tonight. Actually, having been away, she’d been full-up even before dinner had been over. Seeing Val cut both Lisa’s and Albert’s ham into bite-size pieces had probably been when her eye had started to twitch.

The elevator’s sluggish doors opened with a _ding_ , revealing the diminutive Mrs. Bestler next to the button panel. The older woman’s eyes lit up as she announced, “Ground floor: fire exits and package delivery.” The elderly woman held her hand so it was vaguely in the way of the elevator’s door. Even without her help, it would take almost a minute to close, but Stephanie’s neighbor wasn’t about to lose a customer. “And, where do you want to go tonight?” 

“Thanks Mrs. Bestler,” Stephanie rolled her regular suitcase inside, waving at her obviously leery father to follow, “Second floor, please.” 

“Okie dokey,” Mrs. Besler pushed the button with her thin, bent finger. “So, who’s your handsome man?” she asked.

Her father started coughing as Stephanie giggled. “This is my father. Dad, this is Mrs. Bestler. She lives down the hall from me.”

“Um, pleased to meet you,” Mr. Plum’s politeness kicked in, though he didn’t hold out his hand for a shake. That was apparently a bridge too far.

The short, gray haired woman wasn’t daunted. “How lovely. It’s the season for family visitors, isn’t it? My own son, Lenny, visited earlier. Stop by my place tomorrow, dear, if you want some of the sugar cookies he brought me.” She leaned toward Stephanie as though revealing a secret. “They’re the kind that came in a sealed tin, so you know they’re good.” 

“That’s great, Mrs. Bestler, maybe after breakfast,” Stephanie said as the elevator clattered to a stop, bouncing gently until it was level with the floor. 

“Second floor. Ladies lingerie, small explosives, and lost Tupperware lids.” The doors opened with a low sigh. Stephanie thanked her neighbor and rolled out of the elevator, turning back for her father who was trying to exit without coming anywhere near Mrs. Bestler. This, apparently, was impossible to do.

“Come on, Dad. Mrs. Bestler has other floors to visit.” 

“There are only three floors in this building,” her father muttered while sliding himself, the suitcase, and her leftovers through the closing elevator doors. Still looking askance at Mrs. Bestler as the elevator door closed, he frowned. Turning to his daughter, he asked, “Why does she think I’m your handsome friend?”

As sinister visions of sugar daddies no doubt danced in his mind, Stephanie started rolling her suitcase down the hall. “Dad, she’s senile. She says that about every man she doesn’t recognize, even new tenants.” She stopped to fish for her key, glad that she’d never removed it from her winter coat in Florida, so it was still where it belonged. Though, according to Ranger, anyone over the age of ten, or maybe seven depending on the neighborhood, could pick her lock. 

She sighed, imagining for a moment that Ranger was with her as she approached her door. And yet, that was unfair to her father, who’d spent hours today in cold, icy weather, making sure she got home safely from the airport, and now to her apartment. She looked back at his still suspicious expression. “Dad, when Grandma Mazur came to stay with me, every day Mrs. Bestler asked who my sexy young friend was. She’s really just a nice old lady who’s in her own world.”

“Hmm,” her father replied as she unlocked her door and reached in for the foyer light. The scent of her apartment was the first thing she noticed. It was a bit musty, and smelled a bit more of her neighbor Mr. Pulaski’s kielbasa than she remembered. But, even with that, it smelled like home.

She rolled inside, followed by her father. Pausing to take off her mittens, she wrestled herself out of her parka, with its wonky zipper. As she hung it on one of the pegs by the door, she shoved aside an empty gun belt, the hand-me-down padded vest that Lester Santos gave her last year, and her Rangeman windbreaker. The extra-long hanging shoehorn left by her grandmother clunked against the wall, ready to be used as an impromptu weapon, along with the canister of pepper spray on a string. _Yup,_ definitely back home.

She reached up for her hat, realizing she was still wearing her Florida elf cap. No wonder her ears were so cold. But really, how did elves even survive in the North Pole with just felt hats that couldn’t possibly cover their long pointy ears? 

Which made her realize that it wasn’t even close to warm or cozy now that she was inside, even though she was still wearing her mother’s borrowed sweater. Leaving her suitcase and bags in the foyer for the moment, she went to the old-fashioned, round thermostat next to the kitchen. _Well hmm_ , she thought, either Val or Dillon must have adjusted the temperature upward, because it actually showed 70 degrees, rather than the 62 she’d set it to before leaving. 

But, with the unmistakable draft emanating from the windows, it was less than warm. And, the chill along her tanned skin made the difference from Miami even more noticeable. How could 70 degrees feel so different in two locations? Well, she’d get used to the temperature soon. 

She flipped on the overhead light in the living room, then turned toward her father. He stood just outside the foyer, suitcase and bag still in hand, looking around. Jaw set, eyebrows drawn together, his expression reminded her of the time, shortly after she’d started at Vinnie’s, that he’d accompanied her to buy a used car. As it had turned out, she’d had to go back later, by herself, to actually purchase the battered vehicle she could afford. It just hadn’t been right for her parents to spend their limited income on any of the cars that her father actually approved. 

“Thanks again, Dad,” she said, returning toward him. “I really appreciate your help getting all my stuff upstairs. I can take it from here.”

Her refrigerator chose that moment to make itself known by clunking several times to the accompaniment of a mechanical groan. Another sound of home, Stephanie thought, along with the periodic tattoo of running feet upstairs from Mrs. Dirkson’s grandchildren. And also, the muffled sound of a Turner Classic movie from Mr. Wexler’s TV next door and the slam of a door closing further down the hall. They were all evidence of her little “village.” Her lips lifted into a smile; she never felt alone here. 

In fact, all that was missing was the sound of Rex practicing for the hamster Olympics on his wheel. Tomorrow, after she retrieved him from Val, her village would be complete.

Meanwhile, her father had taken a couple of steps forward while still scanning the living room. She realized he’d never been here before. 

Following his eyes, she attempted to see what he did. Her cozy, familiar huddle of perfectly broken-in furnishings revealed themselves to be a salvaged brown, convertible sofa, a set of recliners she’d bought from the apartment’s previous owner, and a yard sale coffee table (“It’s not ‘banged up,’ it’s distressed. You’d have to pay extra for that in a store,” Dougie’s snippy neighbor had insisted). Her sister’s old kitchen table was ringed with a set of comfy though not-matching chairs. Her mother’s cast-off drapes, thankfully less overtly floral after decades in the sun, hung alongside the windows. 

She frowned; the whole room seemed smaller than she remembered. Emptier, or maybe just tidier, possibly due to Val’s touch. Her sister had obviously stopped by to pick up her mail and stack in a few piles on the kitchen table. It was still home, but with a tired, sepia cast that was probably borne of her time away. After all, how could her pre-war, post E.E. Martin apartment on a winter’s night ever compare to Ellie’s bright Key Biscayne beach condo? 

“Pumpkin, are you sure you don’t want to come back home with me tonight? Your old room is made up and ready for you.” His eyebrows furrowed as he haltingly added, “Honey, it’s cold in here.” As if to prove his point, the clear, plastic insulating film on her living room window belled and gently fitted back to the window glass, and a puff of cool air sought the skin under her hair and sleeves. “Maybe it would be better to come back and unpack during the day.”

“No, that’s okay, Dad. I’m ready for a bit of peace and quiet, so it’ll be good to settle in and sleep in my own bed.”

Her father considered her for a few moments, lips taut. Then he exhaled. “Well, all right,” he said, releasing the handle of her suitcase. After another pause, he stepped forward and handed the leftover bag into her waiting arms. “If you change your mind, though, just call me and I’ll come back.” He then reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, pushing a few bills into her hands. “Or if it’s late, just get a taxi and come over. Any hour. You still have a key, right?” 

“Yeah, Dad, but really it’s okay. 

“Mmm,” he replied, his brows still lowered in thought. 

“Honest, Dad. Don’t worry.” She put down the bag of food from her mother and hugged him. “Thanks again. And take care driving home. Have a good night.” 

His arms tightened around her and, wreathed in his aftershave and the sound of her father’s breathing, she was a little girl again. All was warm and safe. Santa had, once again, magically wriggled his way down the Plum’s non-functioning chimney to leave the best gifts. The day after Christmas would be an extravaganza of waking up to play again with new toys, eating brunch at Denny’s with the whole family, shopping the after-holiday sales with Mom and Val, and returning to dinner back at home. 

Her father released her, disbursing the magic. “You too, Pumpkin. Call if you need anything.”

“Will do,” she promised as she followed him to the door. Out in the hallway, the evening “easy listening” concert drifted from Marnie Mikkelsen’s door down the hall. One of her younger neighbors— at close to fifty, which said something about the age range in her building— Marnie had recently moved in, and already contributed her part to keep the floor entertained.

Over the threshold, Mr. Plum kissed her forehead and then walked down the hall, hands in his coat pocket, to the current song’s refrain. As her father veered toward the stairwell door, the quiet male voice sang, “Please come home for Christmas. If not for Christmas, by New Year's night.” 

She swayed in her doorway, lost in the song until the bass thud of the stairwell door let her know that Mrs. Bestler had apparently lost Mr. Plum as a repeat customer. Snorting, Stephanie closed and locked her door, setting the security bar in place. Then she turned to lean back and exhale. It had been a _heck_ of a long day. 

After a moment’s reflection, she picked up the bag of leftovers and headed into the kitchen. The overhead fluorescent fixture buzzed and then the light flicked on, revealing another room that was tidier than she remembered. _Distance makes the house seem tidier_ , she thought. 

She squared her shoulders and opened the fridge slowly, as though entering the house of a skip reported to have a gun. She dreaded what she might find in her refrigerator after months of unexpectedly being away. It had been long enough that her forgotten leftovers might have evolved a civilization and developed weapons by now.

And then, as her jaw dropped in surprise, her leftover bag dropped from her hand. Because the inside of the fridge also was clean. More importantly, the top shelf boasted an Entenmann’s crumb cake and a bag from Tasty Pastry. She pulled out and opened the crinkly pastry bag, releasing the perfume of baked dough, shortening, and sugar that was the hallmark of quality donuts. 

She pulled one out. _Mmm_ , _Boston Creme,_ she thought while nibbling. It was just to ensure that it was fresh, which— _oh my—_ it was. While munching, she spotted an unopened container of orange juice on the top shelf of the fridge door. That was new, too.

Out of curiosity, she opened the freezer. And, _wow_. There was a whole stack of microwaveable dinners. New, and not covered with freezer frost. Banquet Meat Loaf, Stouffer’s Chicken, Swanson Salisbury Steak with mashed potatoes and yummy, salty gravy…. 

_What the heck?_ Frozen comfort food? Was Joe Morelli now also breaking into her apartment to leave her food? Or had her sister somehow turned into her personal shopper. But no, she’d spent hours with Val today, and she’d never been able to keep surprises even as a child. This was not her work. 

She found herself inspecting the remainder of her Boston Creme. _Well, don’t look a gift donut in the mouth_ . With that moment of perfect clarity, she took a bite, followed by another, continuing until she was done. Dusting her hands together, she resumed her initial project of loading her mother’s leftovers into the fridge. As she unpacked, it became obvious that her mother was attempting to keep her fed for several days. _Holy cow_ , it was almost a full fridge, like normal people had.

A bit stunned, she left the kitchen to take her luggage back to her bedroom. Which she idly noted was just as close to the front door as in Ellie’s condo, though it seemed like a much shorter distance. 

She steered her suitcases to the foot of her bed, her initial unpacking plan quickly losing appeal at the thought of falling over onto her bed, pulling up her covers, and hard-snoozing until the morning. Straightening as a puff of cool air lingered along her neck and slithered under her collar, her shoulders twitched with a momentary shiver. _Cripes_ , it was even colder in here than in the living room. 

Going to the window, she pulled back the curtain. Ice rimed along the inside edges of the window, while fog trapped between the glass and the storm window opaqued the view. Dripping moisture had loosened the tape she’d used for her impromptu window plastic, leaving a gap along the side. And, looking down, it seemed that it had maybe gotten so cold that the wad of chewing gum she’d MacGyvered to plug a window frame gap had fallen out. 

She shook her head. It was time to remind Dillon, yet again, that her windows needed to be fixed. Well really, the ones in the bedroom should probably be replaced, due to the crack in the top pane from a BB-gun incident earlier in the year that Dillon and the apartment owners didn’t know about. At least, not yet, since that would probably be a repair she’d have to pay for. 

In the meantime, she went over to her bureau and pulled out her hefty roll of duct tape, and resealed the window plastic. She could do something more thorough tomorrow morning. 

As she went to return the tape, she looked up and noticed a fresh bouquet of flowers on her night table. Flowers… flowers. She squinted at them, wondering whether to approach closer. While for most people a bouquet of flowers was a good thing, with her history there was a decent chance that it was more sinister. 

This particular arrangement, though, was oddly reminiscent of the one she’d purchased for Ranger’s brother and his wife. Just yesterday morning, though it seemed like weeks ago, now.

 _Hmm_ , she pondered. That was in Florida, so it was doubtful she had a copycat stalker mimicking her actions to send her a creepy memento. So, she hovered closer to the head of her bed and pulled out the card. In careful handwriting— a familiar script, though it wasn’t Ranger’s— it said, “Cuban Santa comes on Christmas Day. I hope you like what the elves left for you.” It wasn’t signed, but it didn’t need to be. 

This was from Ranger. And probably that was Ella’s script. Had Ranger and Ella-the-elf also been the source of her unusual refrigerator bounty? Or did she have multiple food and cleaning elves? She wanted to call Ranger to thank him, but... Tasty Pastry? Banquet? Stouffers? Ranger was more a protein shake, nuts and berries, and Healthy Choice kind of guy. 

She paused, not wanting to accidentally thank Ranger for something that maybe Joe had done. She’d finally realized how she’d likely confused both men, over time. And, she was done doing that. 

She glanced at the clock; probably Ella was still awake. She pulled out her cellphone, only to discover that she needed to recharge it. She rolled her eyes, remembering that she’d stashed her charging cable in one of her suitcases during a last-minute roundup of her belongings this morning. So, instead, she picked up her old landline phone handset from her bedside table. Dialing a familiar number, she reached the Rangeman front desk. 

“Rangeman Main Office, Trenton. How can I help you?” 

“Hi, is this Binkie? This is Stephanie Plum. I’m looking for Ella, if she’s around.” she said. 

“Oh, hey Stephanie. Ella said you might call. Hold on, I’ll forward you to her number.”

After a brief visit with the office Muzak (“Classical is soothing, Babe. Important for our business.”), the other line picked up.

“Merry Christmas! Stephanie, dear, is that you?” Ella said. 

“Yup,” she replied. “Merry Christmas to you and Luis.” She cleared her throat. “Thanks for dropping off the flowers. They’re really lovely, and such a nice surprise. But, um, while you were here, maybe did you drop off some food? And maybe, like, straighten up?” 

“Yes, dear,” Ella chuckled. “Ranger wanted to get you comfort food because you were coming home to winter after a nice vacation in Miami. Poor man, he got the brands all wrong, so I guessed a bit. Did I come close to what you’d like?”

“Yeah,” Stephanie drew the word out, combining her enthusiasm with her surprise. “Ranger told you to buy me meat loaf?” 

“He did. And I’m glad I guessed right, dear. But, in case I missed the mark, I also included a container of beef stroganoff and another one with turkey chili. They’re behind the frozen dinners. I left cooking instructions on your counter.” 

“Wow,” Stephanie said, while Ella continued talking.

“And that reminds me. There’s also a tin of _turrones_ on the counter, if you didn’t already find it. I wasn’t sure what type to get, so I bought the brand Ranger buys when he’s having a ‘Cuban moment.’ Which you never heard me say,” she added, amusement still coloring her voice. 

“Oh my gosh,” Stephanie said, turning back toward the kitchen. “I don’t know what to say, but thank you.” This time she found the tin. And, even though her dessert stomach was reaching capacity, she felt compelled to sample the _turrones_ . Just so she could tell Ella they were delicious. Which, _oh heavens_ , after the first bite she knew they were. 

“The _turrones_ are perfect,” she said quickly so she could take another bite. Looking around her, as though someone might be watching, she wrapped the remainder in a paper towel, closed the tin, and started back to her room. Why reserve snacking to only one room?

Ella chuckled again. “I’m glad you like them.” She cleared her throat, then added, “By the way, I hope you don’t mind, but I also brought over my niece to help me tidy up while I was there. I figured that it’s always so much nicer to come back home when everything is already in its place.” 

And that explained her apartment’s cleanliness. It certainly hadn’t qualified for _Home Beautiful_ when she’d left. And, being realistic for a moment, her sister Val wasn’t very likely to have cleaned for her. With the rambunctious mess of three children— four if you counted Albert— Val had enough work already on her plate. 

“It did make it a lot nicer, Ella. Thanks.” As she spoke, she remembered something else. “Oh, I met some of Ranger’s family. His sister Ariana said you got her started in her job. She seems to really enjoy it.” 

“Oh, I miss Ariana, she’s such a lovely girl.” Ella said. “I did give her some pointers to get started, but she took them and ran with them.” Her warm voice deepened, reminding Stephanie of times she and Mary Lou traded confidences. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you this, but Ranger mentioned that Ariana offered to hire you. From what I’ve seen, and heard from everyone at Rangeman, I think you two would really get along. And you’d be great at the job.”

“You think so?” Stephanie replied as she took a final bite from her _torron_ and absent-mindedly cleaned her sticky fingers on her paper towel. As Ella continued talking, Stephanie went into her bureau to pull out a set of flannel pajamas; Wonder Woman print, of course.

“I do think Ariana’s job is right up your alley.” Ella’s voice was slightly raised against the sound of singing that had started in the background. “Of course, we’d miss you up here, but I think you’d really like it. And I know Carlos, I mean Ranger, would really like it if you were down there and had a nice job.” 

Okay, so that was something worthy of discussing further, but instead Stephanie found herself blurting, “So you call him Carlos, too?” 

Ella chuckled again. “Only in private. I try not to, since he likes to be called ‘Ranger’ professionally, and he’s so proud. But I’ve known him all his life, so I sometimes slip when I’m thinking about family.” Still clearly amused, she confided, “I heard that his Abuelita Mañoso basically lit him up, last night, because he hadn’t brought you and Julie to any family events until now. He probably thinks he dodged a bullet because Abuelita said it all in Spanish, but he never quite swore his mother to Rangeman super secrecy.” 

As Stephanie snorted, Ella continued. “Apparently his Abuelita also informed him that you and Julie are both _his_ family, and that he should do something about it and stop being a _cobarde_. Which my niece says is basically the same as calling him a ‘wuss.’ But that’s another thing you never heard me say.” 

Stephanie burst out laughing. “Pinkie swear, I promise I’ll never tell,” she replied. Then as commotion in the background of Ella’s call picked up, she remembered she was interrupting the woman’s holiday evening. So, she wished her a Merry Christmas and ended the call. 

She leaned back against the wall and couldn’t help smiling at the image of Ranger’s petite, gray haired grandmother poking him and calling him a wuss. Tilting her head, she began to formulate a new theory about where Ranger’s courage and pride might come from. 

And, once again, she was thinking about Ranger. This time, though, she didn’t need to hide the smile on her face to avoid questions. 

She started punching in Ranger’s number, realizing that she was having a bit of difficulty because her fingers were so cold. _Time for the antique space heater of doom_ , she sighed. Ranger picked up while she walked over to pull the bedroom space heater out of her closet. 

“Babe,” his deep, husky voice practically warmed the room on its own. 

“Yo,” she replied with a slow giggle. “Ranger, I survived day one with the family. I’m back home now.” 

“I always knew you could make it through anything,” he said. “Though surviving Christmas in Trenton after a month away, on the beach, might be your greatest achievement yet. Bobby told me it started snowing again.” His words were… well, words… but his voice lapped slowly, making each one like a caress against her ears that set warmth all the way to her core. 

Stephanie shivered, this time not from the cold. If Ranger were here in person, she’d have no need for the space heater she was pulling from under the bulk load of hamster bedding she’d bought from Dougie before Thanksgiving. Instead, she’d be fanning herself. 

Ranger’s unhurried chuckle made her realize that, yet again, she’d probably said some of that out loud. Well, it was true. And Ranger already knew that she considered him a superhero of sex, so why not reveal that she recognized some of his additional abilities?

Finally freeing the space heater in a flurry of flying shoes, she plopped onto her bed. Securing the phone headset between her shoulder and ear, she began untangling the heater’s cord, along with the extension cord she’d simply left attached when she’d last put it away. Happily, the angle of her head also gave her a view of her flowers in the mirror. 

“By the way Ranger, thank you for Cuban Christmas.” She paused as a mischievous smile lifted her lips. “Ella is the best gift, ever.” She shifted the phone to better secure it while her hands grappled with the heater’s stiffly bent cord. “The flowers and comfort food were an awesome surprise, too.” 

“I always like to try something new,” he said in a smoky voice. _Oh my_ , she thought, what this man could do, just over the phone. Why hadn’t she been calling him every night as she got ready for bed? _Mmm_ , with him in Miami, she might have to develop the habit, like starting tonight. 

“By the way, Babe, I noticed the number you’re calling from. And that you haven’t returned my texts. So, I’m online, buying you a backup battery pack for your phone.” She heard him typing as he spoke. 

“Wow, thanks, Cuban Santa,” she said through her amusement. She figured there was no point in telling Ranger that she already had one. Or that she’d given up using it since apparently it also required recharging. Just like her phone that she often forgot to recharge. But then, she realized that if she called Ranger every night, she’d be totally motivated to keep her phone technology in tip-top, fully charged shape. 

Wow, Ranger was really the solution to almost every problem, she realized brightly as she finally managed to free her space heater’s plug. She leaned off the bed to clear space from in front of her free power outlet. 

“Very funny, Steph,” Ranger replied, apparently not picking up the mantle of Cuban Santa enough to say something like “ho ho ho.” As Stephanie paused to wonder how they said that in Spanish, Ranger added, “Your power pack should arrive tomorrow. I ordered two, so you can still back one up after losing the other one.” 

She laughed. Yes, Ranger knew her well. “So anyway, dinner with my family was actually mostly nice,” she began to regale him with stories of the evening while finally plugging in her space heater. In a moment, a blissful wave of heat wafted her with the smell of dodgy electrical power and burnt hair. At which moment, she heard a rumbling snap and the lights and heat went out. 

“Cripes!” she interrupted her monologue. “I blew the power again. I have to go find Dillon the Super and get the fuse reset. This space heater sucks lemons. Remind me to never buy appliances from the thrift store.” She reached down with a wadded T-shirt and pulled the plug from the now singed outlet and carried the whole thing into the bathroom, setting it onto the tile floor, the way her Dad had taught her. 

She wondered if he’d be proud that she remembered the lesson, or horrified that she’d been using a space heater that maybe dated from the Cold War. 

“Babe,” Ranger’s tone had changed from sexy lover to business owner. “I’m sending Ramon over with an energy efficient space heater.” She heard him typing again. “He should be there in about a half hour.” 

“Okay, I might still be in the basement,” Stephanie murmured while heading to her front door in the distant street light that made its way through her windows. 

“Steph, Ramon can get in your front door even if it’s locked,” Ranger reminded her. She pictured the annoyance that was probably drawing his brows together as he contemplated the insecurity of her apartment. 

“Oh yeah, that’s true,” she acknowledged while picking up her keys and letting herself out of the aforementioned front door. “Ranger, this phone cuts out at the end of the hallway, so I’ll call you back in a bit, okay?”

Wait, was that a sigh she heard over the phone? “Okay Steph. Stay safe. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll call you at this number.”

“Okay, bye for now,” she said quickly before the phone cut to silence. It was too big for her pocket, so she just kept it in her hand as she pushed the elevator button.

The dented doors opened to Mrs. Bestler’s ever cheerful voice. “Second floor. Last minute holiday gifts. Where to, dear?” 

“To the basement,” Stephanie said, realizing that she needed to buy a six-pack of beer, tomorrow, to make sure she’d have the proper currency to remind Dillon that she appreciated all of his help.

“Basement level,” Mrs. Bestler nodded, pressing the button. “Here we go,” she said, patting her permed, white hair as if getting ready for an adventure. 

Well, Stephanie admitted wryly, visiting Dillon and his collection of repair parts, spare TVs, and Star Wars figures was a bit of an adventure. She looked at the phone in her hand, imagining Ranger on the other end of the line, waiting to hear the next installment of the ongoing excitement of her day. And hey, it was almost tomorrow, so she could relay some bonus fun in her next call. 

The elevator whined slowly as it passed the first floor and bounced to a stop. “Basement level,” Mrs. Bestler announced. “Wrapping paper, complaints, and mismatched parts. Oh, and Merry Christmas, one and all.” 

Stephanie couldn’t help laughing. “Thanks Mrs. Bestler. Merry Christmas to you, too. See you in a bit.” The elevator door closed and Stephanie turned to knock on Dillon’s door. _Yup_ , Stephanie thought with a brief smile, _Merry Christmas Stephanie, and welcome home_. Her life was never dull. 

_To be continued…_

* * *

_Notes: Please Come Home for Christmas_ is a blues holiday hit from the '60s that the Eagles covered again in the '70s. Surprisingly, I'd never heard it before this year, or at least never noticed it. But, right around the time when I was initially plotting this part of the story, it came on the radio. And, somehow, it just worked.

As a final note: please stay safe, Babes, and take care of yourselves in this strange and difficult time. Each of you makes the world a better place.


	9. The Twelve Days of Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story disclaimers and background can be found at the start of Chapter 1.

* * *

**Chapter 9: The Twelve Days of Christmas**

“Nah, girlfriend,” Lula batted falling snowflakes from her face with her mitten. “Ain’t no point to digging out that car of yours. Like your dad told you, it ain’t going nowhere anyhow, on account of your battery being dead by now.” She turned and nudged Stephanie with her elbow. “Unless, it’s ‘cause you want to dig it out so your grandma can visit it sooner at the car parts funeral home.”

As Stephanie burst into laughter, Lula continued speaking. “Now that would actually make some sense. Your grandma would give your car a good send-off, maybe even get it in the newspaper or something. Probably you could get Officer Hottie to dig it out for you. Or maybe a couple of those hot Rangemen. And you know, I could wait around for that.” 

Stephanie pursed her lips; her breath plumed into the snowy mix in the air. “Joe and I broke up,” she said, staring at the untouched seven-foot mound of snow-buried car. Well, it was untouched except for where she’d waded through the snow drift to kick it, earlier, before calling Lula for a ride. And, well, probably this was her car, since this was where she’d left it. 

“Uh huh,” Lula replied. “I knew that. At least I heard from Connie that he’s been out hound-dogging while you were away. But that don’t make no difference, ‘cause you two have been broke up before. I reckon a nice shoveling workout followed by a few warm-up activities back in your place is all you need to get that fire stoked between you, again.” 

“No, seriously Lula. I don’t want to stoke that particular fire again. Joe and I are over.  _ Finito, _ ” she emphasized, though the thought of cozying up to a different delicious warmth didn’t sound bad, at all. Which reminded her of her final phonecall with Ranger last night. That is, the call after Ramon from Rangeman finished repairing her bedroom power outlet (“Hey Bombshell, just checking: you weren’t  _ trying  _ to set your apartment on fire, right?”), plugged in the space heater he’d brought, and headed back to wherever Ramon went when he wasn’t saving the day. Or night, in this case.

And what a delicious night it had been. As her memory unrolled a particularly warmth-inducing moment in her phonecall, her focus drifted. Despite the cold air and falling snow, she found herself fanning her face. 

Then she briefly flicked her eyes toward Lula. Yup, her skip-tracing wingman knew there was more that Stephanie wasn’t saying. She briefly wondered: should she think of Lula as a  _ wingwoman _ ? Wing _ person _ ? Or maybe wing-Lula, since her partner in cornering skips for bounties was certainly unique. As her current puffy, safety yellow parka and hat attested.

“Girlfriend, what particular fire do you want to stoke? ‘Cause right now, there’s something you ain’t telling me,” Lula confirmed Stephanie’s suspicions. She pivoted toward Stephanie, hands on hips. Or, at least, where her hips probably were located underneath her voluminous coat. “Oh wait, homegirl. Is Ranger back in town? I bet he is, ‘cause that man is a hot hunk of burning fire on two drool worthy legs.  _ Mmm hmm, _ ” she nodded.

“No Lula, Ranger isn’t back in Trenton,” she attempted to dodge around the Ranger topic; it was still too fresh and  _ real  _ in her mind to share. 

“Okay, girl, that’s fine ‘cause I bet you found some fine honeys down on those Florida beaches. Hangin’ out, all ripped and oiled for the sun in their Speedos.  _ Mmm hmm _ . Or maybe duded up and drinking Piña Coladas on the veranda. Enough to make you forget all about the tired old drama up here and start planning something new.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Stephanie allowed with a vague shrug. Feeling the cold starting to numb her toes, Stephanie stomped her boots. “So, anyhow, can you give me a ride to Vinnie’s so I can check in?”

“Why you want to go into work, first thing, instead of getting coffee and dishing about those honeys on the beach? Ain’t nothing going on at Vinnie’s, I can tell you that right now. Or if anything is going on, it’s happening in Vinnie’s back office. And believe me, you’d need brain bleach to forget about that if, for example, you happened to see something you never wanted to, after taking a wrong turn on account of being distracted while playing Candy Crush on your phone. Just for example.” 

Okay, that was oddly specific, and not something Stephanie wanted to pursue in any way. She shook her head. “Come on, maybe Vinnie has a job for us. We could pick that up and then go get brunch.” She turned toward Lula’s latest car, which was parked by the building entrance. And wow, who knew that it was still possible to buy a sky blue Geo Metro? Well, sky blue except for the panels covered with primer paint. Oh hey, and a four-by-four piece of lumber as a front bumper. 

It was unique, just like Lula. Well, given what she recalled of her own current car, buried under several feet of snow, her car was equally unique. Possibly a quarter of the car body was touched-up Bondo cement instead of metal. Overall, it had a sort-of Beagle inspired color pattern.

Lula sniffed, unaware of Stephanie’s deep ruminations, and then turned to follow her. “Well, I gotta admit that getting out of this here cold, and getting brunch, are two top-notch ideas. I could pass on Vinnie’s, on account of them not having any skips to pick up for the past several weeks, but that’s up to you.”

Plodding through the crusts of previous storms’ snowdrifts back to Lula’s car, Stephanie puffed her breath through pursed lips. The steam of her exhale billowed on the lazy air, where plushy, new snowflakes continued to gently fall. They covered and purified the sandy snow boulders left by plows, filled in her prior bootsteps to remove traces of her passage, and gave the cloudy sunshine an opalescent glow. 

It was actually almost pretty. Stephanie reached her mittens up to catch some falling flakes. “Lula, we’re living in a snow globe,” she marveled. As she watched, the snowflakes on her palms nestled into her mittens’ weave and melted into glistening droplets of water. 

“We’re living in the goddamn arctic,” Lula countered, reaching her car. “We just need to find us some handsome hunks to rub noses with, like them eskimos do.” She snorted, unlocking her car and opening the door with a rusty creak. “Now I know that eskimo song is from some children’s movie, ‘cause all they’re rubbing is noses, but you can fill in the blanks with your own imagination.” 

Stephanie laughed while Lula fiddled with her key to open the door, got in, and reached over to pop the inside lock on the passenger door. Opening the door, Stephanie stomped her boots again to release the snow clinging to the top and wedged in the treads. Then she got into the car. She wrestled with the seatbelt while Lula coaxed the engine to start. 

“Now you sure you want to go to the bonds shop?” Lula asked as she turned on the heat, which mostly managed to direct a column of chilled air right into her and Stephanie’s faces. “You could just call Connie while we’re in the car, and then we can head over to the food court at the mall.” She turned on her windshield wipers to clear the snow that had accumulated outside, and leaned over the steering wheel to wipe moisture from the inside with her mitten. 

After finding that the vent blowing on her was stuck open, Stephanie covered it with her own mittened hand. “Lula, I called Connie a couple days ago, before I came back from Florida. I just figure I should stop in, just in case, you know.” But, why are you avoiding Vinnie’s?” Stephanie squinted, turning toward her. 

“No reason. Mostly I’m just tired of going there to watch Connie do her nails and read  _ Cosmo  _ and  _ People  _ while there ain’t any work. No skips for me, you know. Which means there ain’t any money for me.” She nodded in conclusion. “Which means there ain’t no reason to go there.” 

The vents began exhaling lukewarm air while Lula began inching the car forward. It crunched and squeaked through plow-smoothed snow as they made their way to the parking lot’s exit. Then, at the first break in oncoming vehicles, she gunned her car into traffic, which caused it to skid for a few seconds on the road’s mixture of snow and ice before steadying. Stephanie released the dashboard and sat back. “Lula, it’s okay if you just want to drop me off at Vinnie’s and go do something else.”

“Naw, girl. I got your back. Ain’t gonna just dump and run.” She slowed at the intersection, then turned right, mushing through the pressed snow left by other cars. She turned her windshield wipers to high as splashes of salted slush flipped up like divots from the tires of the car in front of them. 

Through the splashes, Stephanie gazed out the window. A part of her was pleased to see other snow-buried cars along the route, like lines of gigantic, Black and White Krimpets whose copious vanilla frosting had melted down the sides. The most striking thing, though, was that all the familiar places almost seemed to have shrunk in the past five weeks, and aged under fringes of hoarfrost and icicles. 

They passed Pete’s Pawn, where she’d bought her most recent answering machine, next to the no-name convenience store where she’d almost shot someone. After that was the security-gated liquor store, followed by Nguyen Lo’s Pizza, with the decades-old mustachioed Italian pizza chef painted on the glass next to a neon dragon. 

And, as they stopped at another red light, they were across from Madame Zelda’s psychic reading shop, with its flashing strings of star and moon lights. In a nod to the season, a foot-tall Santa rocked back and forth in the front window under the sign promising to “reveal past lives and divine the fortunate future.” Stephanie nibbled her lip, wondering about Santa’s past life. Would that explain how he was able to afford all those toys for the good little girls and boys? Possibly it was like the mystery of Ranger’s cars.

“Hey Homegirl,” Lula turned to her. “Do you remember why we never went to Madame Zelda’s last spring? I remember, you and Joe were thinking about marriage again, and I was trying to figure out if it was worthwhile staying with Sam Shortstaff. And you know his name should’ve told me right up front that the answer was ‘no’ since I wasn’t going to get any satisfaction. Yeah, that name was some truth in advertising. Though he could’ve also been called Sam Shortcash, and that would've been true, too.” 

Stephanie laughed. “I think it was because Zelda told your friend Coco that she was Cleopatra in a past life.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Lula nodded as she stepped on the gas. The car slipped sideways for an instant before getting traction and moving forward through the intersection. “That’s how we knew Zelda had to be a fake, ‘cause I already know that I was Cleopatra. No point in going to someone who don’t know what she’s doing.”

“That’s right,” Stephanie agreed, recalling that she’d told Joe about that conversation with Lula. She was considering whether to go to Zelda’s, even if Lula didn’t. After all, she had a lot of questions about that fortunate future that Zelda promised to reveal. 

And, though she had her doubts, she also was curious about the past life thing. So, she’d mentioned that maybe she’d been someone like Annie Oakley in a past life. Or maybe Amelia Earhart. Of course, Joe had revealed more about himself than about her by instead suggesting she’d probably been Bonnie, of Bonnie and Clyde fame. She wasn’t entirely sure who he’d cast as Clyde, but she didn’t think it was Joe in a previous life.  _ Yup _ , that conversation had ended badly. 

No wonder she’d forgotten it until now. 

While she pondered, Lula had turned on the car’s radio and was bopping in place to the rhythmic tune currently being played. Stephanie didn’t understand any of the songs’ words through the tinny built-in speakers. But she had a different, pleasant understanding of the song’s percussive beat, which a bass speaker somewhere in the car rumbled directly into her seat, providing a very special massage.  _ Whoa boy _ , she squirmed;  _ mmm, _ she should definitely get one of these for her car. Maybe for her couch and kitchen chair, too. 

And of course she’d said that out loud. Because Lula brought her back from her happy place by exclaiming, “Yeah, you got that right, Homegirl. When my Firebird finally died, I made Doobie Donnie take the speaker out and install it in this one. Of course the trunk floor is kinda weak on account of the rust holes, so he just bolted it on the backseat floor, right up against my seat. But, as a passenger comfort feature, it travels right through that hump in the floor, back there, over to yours.” 

As an advertisement started playing, Lula reached forward to change the channel. “Cars may come and go, but that speaker is staying with me. Doobie Donnie is a man who understands the importance of a gal having the right accessories.”

Stephanie snorted as the current song’s urgent vibrations stirred her into a warmth she really hadn’t expected to feel while away from her showerhead. “I may need Doobie Donnie’s phone number.” 

“Yeah, I can hook you up. He said he could get a new speaker anytime from the shop his brother runs on the side,” Lula nodded as she turned onto Hamilton, within sight of  Vincent Plum's Bail Bonds. 

As she scanned for a parking space, Lula darted a glance toward Stephanie. “Girlfriend, so you know what to expect…. You remember Melvin Pickle? Well, while you’ve been away, Vinnie’s had him go pick up a couple FTAs. I rode along with him a couple times early in the month. You know, for a little Christmas money. And to help him learn the job. Just casual, you know, so don’t think I’m cheating on you or nothing. And I ain’t been back for a few weeks, since there weren’t no new skips to pick up.”

“Okay,” Stephanie replied, not particularly worried about Lula’s loyalty. She figured Lula was as much of a gig worker as she was. Mostly she was glad her sometimes partner had been able to earn a little cash over the past several weeks. “Earning money for Christmas is good and… whoa!” 

Stephanie unconsciously braced against the dashboard as Lula accelerated into a fishtailing U-turn that sprayed slops of snow on the cars parked on the opposite side of the street. Which was now the side of the street they were on. Stephanie blinked, leaning back in her seat. 

“Got us a parking place,” Lula boasted as she stopped the car, and then began angling into an open spot. 

Meanwhile Stephanie began to understand why Ranger never really liked to be a passenger when he could drive. Filing away the “driving with Lula” story to tell Ranger later, she smiled. Because she knew he’d be there to take her call. 

And, at that very moment, she felt her phone buzz with a text. She dug it out of her purse. Of course, it was a message from Ranger. How on earth did the man know when she was thinking of him? Then she shrugged; he was Ranger, of course he knew.

“Babe how was breakfast?” he’d typed. 

Lurching slightly as Lula continued her back-and-forth process to parallel park, Stephanie typed back: “Yummy. Donuts. Crumb cake. Thanks.” She pressed Send, then quickly added: “Going to Vinnie’s now.”

The little dots hovered while Ranger typed his reply: “Let me know if I need to shoot anyone.”

She snorted, then typed, “Will do, b4n.” Then she grinned, smug that she’d used the “bye for now” abbreviation her friend Lauren had taught her, back in Key Biscayne. One of so many little lifestyle improvements she’d gotten to sample while living in beachside luxury. 

“Okay, Girl. You ready?” Lula had finished parking and turned off the car while Stephanie was busy with her phone.

“Yup, let’s do this,” she said, unhooking her seatbelt and opening her door. 

After a short  _ mush  _ across the street, Stephanie opened Vinnie’s door and stepped inside, followed by Lula. She’d forgotten about the buzzer that sounded briefly whenever the door opened. And also about the pervasive scent of dry cleaning from the shop next door that mingled with the perfume of stale coffee and Connie’s nail polish remover. 

She hadn’t forgotten, though, that Connie played greatest hits on her tinny, desktop radio all day. Although today it seemed to be tuned to a more holiday-oriented station, with a group singing about Christmastide, the week that went up to Epiphany in early January. Stephanie mentally shrugged; her Great-Grandma Plum used to listen to carols through that whole week, though she didn’t know anyone still did. Anyway, it was better than listening to whatever Vinnie had playing in his office. No matter the day; no matter the radio station that Connie chose. 

“Hello Lula,” Connie glanced up. “Oh, hello and welcome back Stephanie. And before you ask, we still don’t have any open FTAs on the books.”

“That’s okay, I figured I’d stop by anyway, just to let you know I’m back in town,” Stephanie thumped her boots against each other to release snow onto the moist entryway rug. She then unzipped her coat while following the frequently trod carpet over to the counter in front of Connie’s desk. “How have you been?”

“You know,” she replied in her nasal, Betty Boop voice. “Same old, same old. Vinnie’s still a jerk; the landlord still won’t fix the heating,” Connie shrugged and set down her magazine. Stephanie couldn’t make out the title through the banner text that trumpeted the secrets of how to effortlessly melt away fat and purported to teach the steps for addicting men through revealed mysteries of the bedroom.  _ Yup _ , same old, same old. 

“Well,” Lula sniffed. Ain’t no secret that both of them are penny pinchers. But this here painting of gambling dogs is new. So that’s something.”

Connie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, the big  _ jamoke _ took it in trade for one of the few bonds we issued, last month. I think he also got a racehorse out of the deal, because now he’s getting racing forms in the mail.” Her eyes darted toward Vinnie’s closed office door, in the back hallway. “Hopefully his gambling sense is better than his ability to figure out which people’s bails to bond.” 

Stephanie snorted. “I never heard you say that. So, anyway, Lula and I are headed out for brunch. Since it’s slow, do you want to join us?” 

Connie tapped her desk with mounded, acrylic fingernails that were tinted the same shade of orchid red as her lipstick. “No can do,” she shrugged. “It may be slow, but you never know when business might show up. Besides, Vinnie might actually notice.” Her gaze slanted toward the far wall with its tired brown sofa and ticking wall clock. “Well, it’s great to see you, but you gals should head out before the shopping rush hits the restaurants. We can get caught up later.” 

“Will you call me if anything comes in? Or should I check in with you?” Stephanie pulled together her coat, fumbling to seat the two halves of the zipper together.

“Yeah, I’ll call. But…,” Connie paused with a frown that Stephanie almost didn’t catch as she looked up from her stubborn zipper. Connie rushed to add in a quiet voice, “Don’t expect much. You might want to hit up Les Sebring’s bond division. Or Best Bet Bonds over in Franklin Park. Give them my name, instead of Vinnie’s, as a reference.” 

“Okay,” Stephanie drew out the word, squinting as she tried to figure out Connie’s facial expression. She glanced at Lula, who also seemed to be watching Connie with unusual calculation. 

At that moment, the front door swung open with unusual vigor, knob hitting the wall, with its buzzer sounding almost like it was scoring an Olympic door opening event. A sparkplug of a man wearing a trendy, dark leather barn coat strode through the doorway. An inch or so shorter than Stephanie, he was built wide like a boxer; an impression that was supported by his flattened, lopsided nose. Not to mention his pugnacious stance as he stopped next to Stephanie. 

“Hey Rosolli, what’cha got for me?” he said, removing and then slapping his suede gloves down on the counter. “Hello miss,” he turned briefly to Stephanie, then looked back at Connie. 

“Um,” Connie said, eyes darting from the man, over to Stephanie, then back to her desk. 

Stephanie gave up on closing her coat and instead reached out to shake the stranger’s hand in introduction. “Hello, I’m Stephanie Plum.”

“Ah, like Vinnie Plum. You must be the cousin who disappeared on vacation.” He took her hand in a grip that was no-doubt meant to assert his strength, based on the straining of his oversized knuckles. His eyes flashed in surprise as he apparently hadn’t expected Stephanie’s own hand strength, endowed by whichever raw-boned, ancestral farmers or ox wranglers who had contributed to her build. 

After a brusque shake, he released her hand and stepped back. His gaze traveled up and down her form and lingering in the area of her bosom. An area of her body that Stephanie knew to be quite acceptable, yet nothing requiring an extended double-take. “Vinnie mentioned you were working on being a bounty hunter.” He finally tilted his eyes back up to hers. With a wink, he added, “If you want to ride along with me, I can show you how it’s done in the ‘big city’.”

Stephanie blinked and felt her jaw drop. Connie jolted back in her chair, her eyes widened. Lula bustled forward, hands once again on her down padded, safety yellow hips. 

“And who the heck are you?” Lula squinted with the hint of a rampaging rhino smoldering in her eyes. 

“Lady, I could ask the same question of you. But if you’re looking to get a bond, this is the place. Connie, here, can hook you up.” 

Connie shifted in her chair and seemed to develop a sudden and quite unaccustomed interest in her filing cabinet.  _ Wow _ , Stephanie thought, who knew there were actually file folders in there, and not just backup handcuffs, old stun guns, and Vinnie’s extra bottles of BuyRite Liquor’s bargain whiskey?

“Bruno, this is Lula,” Connie muttered while pulling out a folder. “She’s Stephanie’s partner.” Connie turned back to her desk, lips pressed in a line. “Stephanie, Lula... this is Bruno  Boucher.  Vinnie hired him a couple weeks ago.” 

“Connie,” Stephanie straightened, her own voice and eyes revealing the raging rhino within. “How did you not mention this any of the times I called?” She inhaled, squinting as she mentally reviewed their conversations. Then she sputtered, “I talked to you two days ago. How did you forget to mention Bruno, here? He seems memorable enough.” 

Connie’s lips pursed as though she’d suddenly realized her lipstick was blended from bitter persimmons rather than fragrant orchids. “I don’t know, Steph. Partly, I guess, it’s because we’ve been through a lot together, all of us, and I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. That’s Vinnie’s job.” Then, probably seeing the glint in Stephanie’s eyes, not to mention the fact that Stephanie was leaning forward as if to charge, Connie added, “But also, the way you were talking, I guess I kinda figured you were going to move to Florida, so it wouldn’t matter. I  _ did  _ tell you that there weren’t any skips for you. That was true.”

“Uh huh,” Lula punctuated the conversation with her own skepticism. “You figured I was moving to Florida, too?”

“No, Lula,” Connie sighed. “You just haven’t been here since Vinnie hired Bruno. But I also heard through the grapevine you’d picked up a job driving for the ambulance company. Even if it’s just on weekends, I know they pay better than you’ll get here. So, I figured you’d moved on.”

Bruno’s sharp gaze flicked between the women as they spoke. His lips quirked with amusement while his eyes were calculating. Stephanie had met people like him before; she was sure he was tucking this all away to use for his benefit, later. 

“Uh huh,” Lula replied, distrust telegraphed through the tone of her voice and her impressively raised eyebrow. “Okay, so where’s Melvin?” Lula asked as though that had now become the main point of the discussion. 

“Melvin  _ Shmelvin _ ,” Vinnie emerged from his office, apparently having fixed the tell-tale squeaking of his door hinges that used to warn everyone that he was about to skitter into the office like an oversized rat. “Melvin the Pickle belongs behind the desk at the DMV, or maybe at a counter at the bowling alley. He shakes like a rabbit if he just sees a gun.” He shook his head. “Melvin makes Stephanie look pro grade.”

“Hey,” Stephanie hitched her purse more firmly onto her shoulder and glared at her cousin. Hands on her hips, lined up with Lula in a formation of female wrath, she spit, “I had the highest rate of skips brought in across all of Trenton for over six months running. Each year I’ve been in the top ten across all of New Jersey. I’ve found and brought in gangsters and hardened criminals.” She paused, darting a look beside her. “Me and Lula. We did that.”

“You tell him, Homegirl,” Lula nodded.

Vinnie rolled his eyes, picking up a pile of mail from Connie’s desk. “Stephanie, you had the highest rate because— in between the occasional gangster and hardened criminal— I scoop in the highest number of low-bail  _ gabbagools…  _ the idiots who are softballs to bring in. It’s the Vincent Plum business model,” his  pige on chest puffed out slightly with pride. “High volume, lower risk. The books show steady profits and my agents get decent pay without as many chances to get dead.”

“That is such bullshit, Vinnie,” Stephanie said, not worrying about her delicate foray into what her mother would call unladylike language. This was Vinnie, and he was a weasel. “If your skips are lower risk, then explain Anton Ward, Kenny Mancuso, Kenny Martin, Lonnie Johnson… any number of rapists, arsonists, domestic violence charges, armed assault. Explain the bond for Joe Morelli. Explain the bond for Ranger. They’re not low risk softballs.” 

Vinnie looked up from his perusal of the mail. The apparent pity in his expression was belied by the smarmy tilt of his lips. “Stephanie,” he shook his head. “Stephanie, this is the bail bonds business. People need bonds because they’ve been arrested. They’re not nice people arrested for overdue library books or cheating at Go Fish. They’re criminals. Most of the people you named were relatively easy bonds, which is why I didn’t give them to Rangeman.” His gaze turned feral. “Oh, and when they actually became difficult, you batted your eyes and got Mañoso or one of his guys to help out. So blow me. You disappear for weeks? Well, I hired Bruno, with his five years experience in fugitive recovery up in Providence.”

“Now that there is some repugnant, revisionist shit.” Lula apparently looked fierce enough that Bruno— with his five years of experience and fashionable tough-guy coat— actually took a step backward. 

“Whatever,” Vinnie shook his head, putting down all the mail except for a glossy mailer from Meadowlands Racetrack and an envelope that looked suspiciously like a Publisher’s Clearing House Sweepstakes invitation. Then he looked up, contemplating both Stephanie and Lula. “Jeez, you take everything as a criticism. Get over it. I frankly never cared how you managed to bring skips in, as long as I didn’t get sued or anything. I’m open minded that way.” 

Stephanie and Lula both hissed out their breath at the same time, and even Vinnie took a step back. Though he covered it by reaching down to pour a cup of brackish coffee from the machine on the far filing cabinet. The one with the bargain booze in the bottom drawer. 

“Look Steph, that’s all water under the bridge. You left and I had to make up the slack. I was lucky to find Bruno, here.” Everyone’s gaze slanted over to the man, who was now studiously reading the copy of  _ People Magazine  _ that had been on Connie’s counter. Apparently he was deeply into Taylor Swift, if his focused perusal of the glossy, two page spread was any indication. 

“You know what? Fine.” Stephanie ground out. “Connie, I think I’m still owed the check for a couple of low valued skips in November. Maybe for Eula and for Lorne Floffman. Just… just send it to my parents’ address.” She turned toward the door, shaking her head. 

Then Bruno looked up. “My offer for you to ride along with me is still open. Just call me,” he murmured unctuously while scribbling something on a scrap of paper. Of course, despite the faux intimacy of his voice, everyone in the room heard him. All eyes swiveled again to Bruno, whose hand was still in the air, clutching the scrap of paper that probably had his phone number on it. Probably reading the room correctly, he pulled it back, scrunching the paper and dropping it in his coat pocket. 

In the resulting moment of silence, Connie’s radio started playing a particularly bouncy version of  _ The Twelve Days of Christmas _ .

Vinnie grimaced, “Connie, what the hell. You know Christmas is over, right? Let’s leave Santa behind and move on.”

“Yes Mr. Grinch,” Connie snapped back. “Because God forbid we should have holiday music during the  _ actual  _ twelve days of Christmas.” She shook her head, furiously spinning the channel knob until she reached a station playing Metallica. “There. Happy now?”

“Cripes!” Vinnie started to throw up his hands in exasperation, splashing coffee on his wrist and dropping his racing flyer. “Son of an ass-badger!” he shouted as he put down his cup and reached for the flyer. “What the heck. I’m going back to my office, where it’s goddamn safe. Bruno, stop by before you head out. The rest of you? It’s been effing real.” He snarled and turned, stalking back to his lair. 

Stephanie smirked when the effect of his fury was dampened by his whine as he accidentally hit his coffee-scalded arm on the door frame. The slam of his door vibrated the framed, poker-playing dogs against the wall. 

“Come on Lula, let’s get donuts,” she said, turning to her friend, who was currently matching baleful glares with Bruno like a pair of furious, empty bookends. If she were still friends with Connie, she’d consider betting whether the two of them would eventually get together. But those days were over.

She put her hand on Lula’s arm, gently pulling her away from her staring contest. “Come on,” she nudged. 

And then the front door opened and Joyce Barnhardt strode in. “Oh Stephanie’s back. And Lula, too. How fun,” her voice dripped with jaded boredom. Then her expression changed, a saccharine smile overtaking her face as she walked over to Connie’s desk. “Bruno, you got here before me, you sly dog. Any good skips we can go find?” She smugly turned to Stephanie. “Bruno and I work really, really well together.” She had the audacity to wink, while Bruno had the common sense to look like he was scoping escape routes.

While Stephanie ground her teeth, Lula shook her head. 

“Hmm,” Lula exhaled. “Connie, maybe you also forgot to mention this  _ biyotch _ , while you were all busy forgetting to mention Bruno, here. Whole lotta  _ forgetting  _ going on,” She huffed, and this time she pulled at Stephanie’s arm. “Kinda like how my homegirl and I have already forgotten about you. That kind of thing happens up in here.”

“Connie who?” Stephanie smirked her approval of Lula’s words, evoking her friend’s laugh. They then walked out the door into the still-swirling snow. 

“Now that’s some shit,” Lula said, putting on her mittens. 

“No kidding,” Stephanie agreed while fumbling again to close her coat. “But you have to tell me about the ambulance job. That sounded kinda good,” she said, firmly focusing on the positives coming from the day, thus far. 

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t mention that before. I was figuring we’d have time to dish about that later, while you told me about all your smokin’ adventures in Miami. But yeah, it’s a good gig. I get to drive with a siren, which was the only thing missing when you and I went after skips. And I get to go right through red lights while helping save peoples’ lives. So that’s all good.” She exhaled, releasing a moist plume into the air. “And, it actually pays okay. Now I’m thinking I could study for the EMT test. If I do that, I can get more shifts and more pay, too.” 

As they started across the street to her car, she nudged Stephanie. “You know what? You could take the EMT test, too. That way we could still drive together. The Dynamic Duo, saving lives and making it count.” 

Stephanie smiled, truly happy for Lula’s persistent ability to rebound from problems and to find ways her friends could benefit along with her. Of course, Stephenie already knew that she’d seen enough disaster, injury, and death over the past couple of years to last a lifetime. And despite what Lula and Ranger might think she wasn’t particularly good with gunshots and blood, either.

But, grateful to Lula, she simply said, “That could be fun. But I have to think about it.”

“Sure thing,” Lula agreed as they reached her car and pulled out her keys.

As Stephanie walked to the passenger side, her phone vibrated with a text. She patted her pockets until she found it, and took a peek. It was from Ranger: “Anyone I need to shoot, yet?”

Stephanie snorted in laughter, then squinted. Was there a particular reason why Ranger was asking? Was there a reason he’d texted before and after she went to Vinnie’s? Glad that she hadn’t yet put on her mittens, she stopped in place, her fingers shaking slightly as she typed: “Did you know about Bruno?”

Seconds later, Ranger replied: “Bruno who? New skip?” He paused, then another message appeared: “Your mother setting you up again? On a stakeout, but can call her later. Set her straight.”

Stephanie’s breath evened out; of course Ranger hadn’t known about Vinnie’s sneaky maneuver. If he’d known, he wouldn’t have hid it from her. She then felt a twinge of guilt for even imagining such a thing from the man who always told her the truth as best he could. Then, her imagination caught up with an image of Ranger calling to scold her mother. A silly grin fought to break through her stern expression. She typed back: “No. He’s Vinnie’s new hire. Replaced me.” 

Ranger replied: “Oh. Call Bobby for backup if there’s anyone you need to shoot.” 

She typed back, “Don’t tempt me. Am with Lula. She’s probably packing. Over and out.” She then put her phone back in her pocket. 

“Let’s get donuts,” she said while getting into Lula’s car. “And pineapple upside down cake. And maybe some ice cream.”

“On it, Girlfriend. We’re going straight to Italian Peoples Bakery for emergency desserts,” Lula affirmed, reading Stephanie’s thoughts. “And see, if I were in one of those ambulances, I could turn on the siren to get there even faster.

“I can see the appeal,” Stephanie bucked her seatbelt and settled back for the drive. “Maybe next time,” she snorted, looking toward Lula. Things had changed, Stephanie knew, and she could see that they were going their separate ways. But that was okay. Lula was someone who didn’t give up on her friends, and neither was Stephanie. They might not be as close as she was with her besties-for-life, Mary Lou, with their lifetime of long phonecalls and shared pains and joys. Despite that, Lula was her friend. 

_ Yup _ , she’d be calling Lula sometimes, too, even after they weren’t working together anymore. Really, who else would believe some of what they’d been through. 

_ To be continued... _


	10. Deck the Halls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story disclaimers and background can be found at the start of Chapter 1.

* * *

**Chapter 10: Deck the Halls**

“So Sweetie,” Mary Lou’s breathless and knowing voice caressed over the phone. “You say that Key Biscayne was beautiful. And, Ranger is there. And it was ‘ _mmm mmm wonderful’_ to see him. So all I want to know is why on earth are you here in Trenton?” 

“I couldn’t miss Christmas. You know that,” Stephanie replied, and then put her hand over her microphone as another round of hammering emerged from her bedroom. Followed by Vince muffling a swear word. 

Because, of course, Ramon’s visit last night had led to Vince and Brett from Rangeman arriving midday to replace her bedroom window. All she’d done was, as a joke, show Ramon the place where she’d fixed it with chewing gum and duct tape. And now, there was a huge cardboard box dominating her living room, a pre-built framed window ready to install, and hammering and swearing behind the closed door of her bedroom. All currently being overseen by Bobby, who was apparently her bodyguard today….

“Yeah, that’s true,” Mary Lou’s voice brought Stephanie back from her visual inspection of the aforementioned huge box in her livingroom. “Families and holidays are important. And, Steph, I want to hear all about that for sure. I still remember birthday parties at your house; they were a total hoot,” she chuckled while Stephanie snorted at a couple of notable memories. Like the time her mother had accidentally served the kids the rum-infused pineapple upside-down cake that she’d baked for the ladies Bridge club. 

Or the time in high school when the sofa had caught on fire after Practically Perfect Valerie had decided to daringly light a cigarette for a sleepover bet, and then stashed it under the cushions when Helen Plum had unexpectedly returned downstairs. The good news on that slapstick moment was that it was both the first cigarette and the last one her sister had ever lit. 

Meanwhile, Mary Lou was still talking. “But, I can wait on that. Because you absolutely have to tell me about your evening with Ranger.” Her voice lowered, whispering with delight as she added, “Tell me _all_ about it. And Sweetie, don’t leave _anything_ out. Especially the naughty parts.” 

“Mary Lou!” Stephanie replied, feigning shock. Of course, she quickly relented. “Okay, I already told you that he surprised me at the restaurant where I was waiting for my friends. And it was really nice. I wished I’d known earlier that he was still in Miami,” she said. “He looked really good. Beyond, even, the fact that he was dressed in normal clothes. Which was actually rather sexy, now that I think about it. He should definitely wear blue more often.” 

She paused, reaching unconsciously to her face to make sure she hadn’t started drooling at the remembered image. She’d practically been able to feel his skin that night by just looking at him in his perfectly fitting polo shirt and dark gray, tailored slacks. And, that feeling was emphatically reinforced by having actually seen his skin the next night, feeling it pressing firmly against hers for hours. Feeling it firmly inside her….

“Steph, you there?” Mary Lou’s voice was like floatation ring snaring her back to the shore. 

“ _Mmm_ , _um_ , yeah. Sorry. Anyhow, he looked rested, tanned, and so much better than before he left. Obviously being in Miami near his daughter and some of his family has been good for him. We talked for a bit, and then he invited me to dinner with his family the next night.”

“Dinner with the family? Wow, that’s a big step for anybody. Let alone for Dreamy, Dark, and Distant,” Mary Lou observed, using the description Stephanie had provided for Ranger in a former conversation. 

“No kidding,” Stephanie agreed. “Especially because it was Christmas Eve dinner.” She paused again. At the time she’d been well aware that he’d offered an unusual intimacy, but after-the-fact she almost found it shocking. Ranger, the Wizard, the Man of Mystery, had spontaneously included her in one of his family’s most important holiday events. 

“Double wow, Sweetie,” Mary Lou echoed her surprise. “How did that go?”

“It was really nice. His family welcomed me like I was an expected guest. Oh, and his daughter Julie was there, too. I hadn’t seen her since Ranger was in the hospital, and I’ve been worried about her. But she’s an amazing kid. I guess, though, that it makes sense that she’s so mature after having gone through what she did. And she’s definitely Ranger’s daughter. Anyway, it was great to see her, too.” 

“Sounds like a great evening,” Mary Lou breathed into Stephanie’s short pause. “So, did he drive you home? Like after a date?” Stephanie could almost see her friend leaning forward, eyes sparkling, as she’d done through so many conversations over the years. Mary Lou was her oldest and best friend for so many reasons.

“Yeah,” Stephanie drew out the word as her lips lifted into a dreamy smile. “He did drive me home. First we dropped off Julie. Then he drove me back to Key Biscayne.” Her voice hitched. “We kissed and it was as good as I remembered,” She shivered, her lips tingling at the memory. “Oh, who am I kidding? It was like ten times better.” 

“Yeah, and?” Mary Lou asked while Stephanie started toward the kitchen. Partly for more privacy, since the hammering in the next room had temporarily ceased. But mostly because that was where the last slices of her Entenmann’s crumb cake were located. And she suddenly had an urge for something sweet. Something yummy. 

“It was amazing,” she said, pulling out the cake tin and lifting a slice to her lips. Then she moaned, a sound that lasted all the way through to another bite. As her bestie burst into laughter over the phone, Stephanie mumbled through another bite, “Hey, I’m having a piece of coffee cake! Sugar hormones: it’s legit.”

“Yup, of course it is,” Mary Lou sagely agreed with her. “And Ranger kisses had nothing to do with those ‘ _mmm mmm_ ’ sounds,” she snorted audibly over the phone. “Probably you shouldn’t bother seeing him again. And hey, it’s a good thing Trenton in winter is so nice, because it makes it easy to be away from Florida and a particular hunky man.” 

Stephanie could picture the smirk on her friend’s face. “Ha ha, very funny,” she said, peeking again into the refrigerator for the small carton of milk she’d spied there last night. At the same time, she knew she was deflecting Mary Lou. Because it wasn’t _just_ his kisses that had made her moan; there was so much more. So very much. And all so very delicious.

Beyond that, it had also felt more deeply intimate than any time they’d been together before. As though they’d almost touched hearts along with their bodies. 

Another shiver zinged up her spine from her core to her now blushing face. She pulled out the milk and touched the carton to each of her too-warm cheeks before pouring her celebratory, post-cake glass. She took a sip, leaning against the counter. Then, as her overheated brain caught up to Mary Lou’s jibe about staying in Trenton, she blurted, “Ranger gave me an open-dated return ticket to Miami before I left.”

“He what?” Mary Lou replied, her wide-eyed incredulity clear in her voice. “Okay, so now I’m changing my original question. _When_ are you going back? And don’t think I didn’t notice that you’ve ignored my embarrassing, best-friend questions about your yummy night with Ranger.” 

“Sidestepped, not ignored. And I’m not sure about when to go back,” Stephanie said, distracted by the sound of her bedroom door opening. “This morning I thought maybe it would be this spring, so I see if it was _real_ , you know? Like, make sure I wasn’t crazy, because I’m pretty sure _crazy_ runs in my family, like wacky brain arthritis or something. But now…,” she hesitated as she saw Bobby in the kitchen doorway. “Well now, even though my bedroom window is getting fixed, my apartment is still kinda 1970s shabby. More importantly, I don’t have a job, and my cousin Vinnie is the slimeball I always thought he was. And it’s winter. So, yeah, this afternoon I’m starting to work on a different theory.” 

Mary Lou exclaimed, “What? Why don’t you have a job? What did Vinnie do now?” At the same time, Bobby tapped his watch, his eyebrow raised in a question. Stephanie held up her finger, mouthing “One sec.” 

She focused back on Mary Lou for just a moment longer. “It’s a long story; I’ll tell you later. For now though, if you happen to need a bond for bail, just go anywhere but to Plum Bonds.” As she spoke, Bobby crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb with a lowering frown that promised a world of hurt for someone. Stephanie was pretty sure who that someone might be. Or a couple of _someones_. And she was okay with that. In fact, maybe she’d tell Bobby about the time she broke Joe Morelli’s leg with her father’s car. Or perhaps the time she’d been on yearbook committee and had arranged for the worst portrait photographer’s picture of Joyce Barnhardt to be used; the one with her about to sneeze. 

So worth it….. 

Meanwhile, Mary Lou girl-scout promised that both she and Lenny would satisfy all of their copious bond shopping needs elsewhere, despite the glamourous Plum Bonds storefront, their amazing bargains on all the popular bail bond products and accessories, and the helpful staff. Mary Lou could barely hold her laughter back until she finished.

“Now that’s true friendship,” Stephanie giggled in response. “You know I worried, since you and Lenny are such wild and crazy kids. Seriously though, you and I are still on for tomorrow, right? I’ll bring over donuts and we can schmooze and talk about everything then.”

“You bet. I’ve freed the whole day for you, Sweetie, and I’m holding you to that promise. Lenny’s taking the kids to the drop-in crafts workshop at the community college, so we’ll be on our own. After that, you can fly back to Florida. And you better stay there through March because I’m totally coming to visit you on Mommy’s Special Vacation Week in March, instead of staying with Great Aunt Marlene and her table doilies in Fort Myers.”

“It’s a deal,” Stephanie said. And then, after a couple of virtual pinky swears and farewell laughs, she hung up. 

Then she looked up at the Rangeman in her doorway. “All right Bobby. I’m ready to go. Let me just make a pit stop and get my coat.” 

He nodded, grabbing his own coat from the front door rack. “I’ll go start my truck to get it warmed up. Be right back.” 

“You’re the best,” Stephanie smiled. Then, he stepped out and Stephanie frowned, noting that he locked the door behind him. Really, how many people had keys to her apartment? Of course, as Ranger had noted, nobody apparently needed one, but still…. But still, Connie still had one. Joe Morelli still had one. And apparently, so did Bobby. It definitely was something to look into. 

She exhaled, closing the bathroom door and turning on the light. And, whoa, there was the Don King beach look, staring right at her in the mirror. She quickly finger combed some conditioner into her hair and then spritzed on curl tamer. After finishing up with a wide comb, hand smoothing, and a couple of clips, it was time for some war paint. 

She scanned the mirror again. No need for foundation— _yay_ tanned skin!— she went for a bit of moisturizer, a quick dash of concealer, some blush, and she was ready for her favorite evening eyeshadow and mascara. Light silvery base, dark blue contrast, a quick finger-smooth, followed by the brush of emphasis along her lashes. A final brush along her eyebrows and she was ready for anything. 

_Oh wait_ , lipstick. She fumbled between a couple, and then grinned as she pulled out Wild Plum. _Yes. Perfect!_ She plumped her lips and slicked on the color, palmed the stick for her purse, and dabbed her lips with a tissue as she stepped out of the restroom. 

And, Bobby wasn’t even back, yet. Men who complained that women took forever in front of the mirror discounted that the whole point was that it was _fun_ to play with getting all dolled up. At the same time, every Jersey girl knew how to do a speedy freshen-up any time, anywhere. _Sheesh._

Stephanie retrieved her purse from the sofa and her mittens from next to the still-unopened letters and bills on her dining table. And seeing that stack of envelopes poked again at the wound from Vinnie’s dismissal of her and the bruise of Connie’s betrayal. Good thing she still had some money that she hadn’t spent in Florida. And also, since she’d been away, her bills should be very low. 

She straightened her shoulders and jutted her chin. She could make this work; she always did. 

Her purse— well, her phone— began vibrating against her hip. Pulling it out she saw a message from Valerie giving her logistics on when she could come over and pick up Rex. _Sheesh_ , since her sister had a key to her apartment— yet another person, it was really time to do something about that— maybe she should have a copy of Val’s key.

Maybe she’d mention that when she called Val later tonight. Then again, maybe she didn’t want to be on Val’s speed-dial for problems at home. Something to think about. 

Scrolling down she saw she’d missed a call from Ranger. And that was a _Holy Cow_ moment: Ranger was now actually calling her to _talk_. Or, at least, not just to check if she was free for work. 

She put the phone to her ear and played his message. His low baritone started a warmth welling through her system. His words made her chuckle, as she fanned her face with her free hand. “Yo, Babe,” he started. “Check your postbox. The backup phone batteries should be there by now.” He paused, then continued with audible amusement, “So, shoot anyone yet? Feel free to keep Bobby on his toes; he needs the refresher. If Vinnie calls, just ignore him.” As he paused again, she heard someone calling his name in the background. “Okay, gotta go. Will be offline for a few hours. Later.”

Stephanie suspected she was smiling like a giddy schoolgirl. Not only was he reaching out, he’d almost said a real “goodbye” at the end of his call. This might be real….

She checked and it had only been about twenty minutes since he called. So she texted back a message: “Yo back at you. Nobody shot yet. Can I give Bobby permission to go do real work? He might shoot someone if we do more shopping. Plum Out.” 

She giggled, putting her phone away as a loud sound and muffled swearing from her bedroom drew her to her bedroom door. She opened it, pushing aside the plastic sheeting taped inside from her door frame, and peeked inside. Her flushed cheeks were immediately cooled by the sliver of arctic air that blew through the empty window opening in front of her fire escape, where Brett was crouched. Vince, who was about to lift the new window frame into the opening paused to look at her. “Hey Bomber, what’s up?” 

“Hi guys. Is everything okay in here? I heard a shout.”

Brett grinned. “Vince bashed his finger by forgetting to make sure both panes were secure before picking up the frame.” 

“Oh, ouch!,” she said. “Do you need any ice? Or a bandage, or anything?”

“Nah,” Vince shook his head. “Hardly hurts at all,” he said while swiftly moving his left hand out of her view.

“It was a very manly injury,” Brett smirked. “And Vince is a very manly man. Who has a very manly shout and a very manly ouchie.” 

“Screw you,” Vince said, almost as an aside. Clearly this was in line with the regular Vince and Brett show. 

“Yeah, in your dreams,” Brett shot back with equal casualness. Then he looked at Stephanie. “Let Ranger know if you also want to have the living room windows replaced. They’re the same vintage as the one in here and the seal is shot, so no wonder they’re drafty.”

“Wow, okay,” Stephanie blinked. That was a lot of work to request, a lot of money. No price and all that, but still…. 

Brett reached forward, resting his gloved hands on the bricks outside where her window normally sat. “It’s no problem. It’s actually kinda nice to do something physical like this for a change. It’s a lot better than sitting at the monitors.” 

Vince nodded, adding, “And it’s a good way to work off all the eggnog and party snacks, Christmas meals, and desserts.” 

“And more desserts,” Brett added. Because if your wife is Filipina like mine, or Italian like Vince’s, every meal during the holidays has its own dessert.”

Stephanie laughed. “I know what you mean about desserts,” she said, thankful that her Hungarian metabolism seemed to neutralize that Italian urge to pile the desserts high at holiday time. Or, really, whenever. 

“Well guys, anyway, thanks for doing this,” she waved her hand in the general direction of the window set and the opening in her wall. “It should make a lot of difference.” 

They both replied and then bent back to work. With a quick finger wave, she began to close the door against the draft. Then Vince turned, his brow furrowed. “Stephanie, if replacing the livingroom windows is too much, I could replace the caulk around them. It’s less than an hour of work.” 

She paused, “Wow Vince, that’s so nice. I may take you up on it. Okay to call you at Rangeman if I decide ‘yes’?” 

“Yup,” he said, returning his attention to the framed window he was about to lift into place. In the window opening, Brett gave her a thumbs up, and then returned his focus to Vince.

Stephanie backed out of the doorway, closing the guys back in her room, just as Bobby returned. Looking almost hopeful, he asked, “No coat yet? Bomber, you change your mind?” 

“Nope,” she popped the “p” while walking to the front door, where he was holding her coat out for her. Bobbling her purse and her phone between her hands while she attempted to fumble her arms into the coat sleeves extended at Bobby’s height resulted in only a minor amount of Melissa McCarthy level clumsiness. And, with only one of her fists _oofed_ into Bobby’s stomach, which— holy cow— was as taut and knuckle-bruising as Ranger’s. 

Shaking out her hand, she put on her mittens and was ready. After making sure she was okay without a visit to her first aid kit, Bobby began to chuckle as he escorted her out of her apartment. Where, yes, he pulled out a keychain with her apartment key, along with a few others that looked suspiciously familiar. Then, like her father, he bypassed the elevator in lieu of the fire door and led her down the stairs (“Stairwells can be more defensible than a closed elevator, Bomber”). From there, he led her outside to his truck, which was now idling next to the front door, rather than where they’d left it earlier today. 

In fact, it was parked in a space that was never, ever unoccupied. 

How the heck did Ranger and his core team always manage to do that? Was it another Rangeman superpower? Or maybe did they all carry special relics of some parking saint? Curious, she slanted a glance toward Bobby, who had resumed his slow, generous chuckle. While pulling out his truck fob, he paused to catch her eyes. “It’s a secret Rangeman device called a snow shovel. I cleared this space a few moments ago, while you were upstairs getting ready.”

She snorted. “Ah, the old ‘stump ‘em with the obvious answer’ trick,” she joked back. 

His smile acknowledged her humor, and then he was all business as he opened the passenger door for Stephanie to get in. “Bomber, one last time. Are you sure about this?” 

She stepped up onto the step bar of his Rangeman F-150, making then the same height. “Not really,” she shrugged, looking him in the eyes. “But it seems like the right thing to do. I understand, though, why you ask.” 

He tilted his head, lips pursed, obviously considering what he might say in return. She turned to position herself in the oversized warmed seat and then glanced at Bobby as she secured her seatbelt. “You can close the door, now. I’m still not planning to bolt away, or steal your truck, or anything.” 

“Hmm,” he rumbled, lips pressed together. After another glance at her, he shut her door and then strode to the driver’s side. 

She snorted. Bobby’s protective streak had gotten a real workout today, ever since he’d tracked her down at Italian Peoples Bakery several hours ago. In fact, she knew exactly when he’d found her because it was shortly after she’d started on her second piece of pineapple upside down cake. One could always tell time by meals and snacks. 

He’d played it casual, as though he’d just been out pastry shopping and couldn’t think of anything better to do than hang out with Lula and Stephanie. But she’d known he was Ranger’s remote eyes and sanity check. And she’d finally gotten Bobby to admit it while he’d trailed after Lula and Stephanie with fairly obvious reluctance through a few after-Christmas sales. 

And now, he was maybe going above and beyond. 

“So Bobby,” she said as he slid into his seat and took off his watch cap, freeing his short hair twists. “Why exactly does Ranger have you on Bomber protection duty today? I tried calling and texting, but he was on a stakeout, and now in a meeting or something.” She held up her phone and glared at it before putting it in her pocket and taking off her mittens.

He started the car while explaining, “I told you, Steph. I’m ride-along in case you need some muscle. Or a second opinion.” His lips curled in amusement. “Or an alibi.”

“Ranger seems pretty sure that I’m going to go off the handle.”

Bobby darted a glance her way while backing up his truck. “I have it on good authority that it’s not a completely unwarranted assumption.” Probably interpreting her audible sniff as affront, he added, “I wouldn’t use the phrase ‘off the handle’ though, and I don’t think Ranger would either. It’s more that you’re resourceful, unpredictable, and don’t take being insulted lightly. And you have a gun.”

She laughed as he continued to explain, “Now, from Ranger’s perspective— and mine also, by the way— those are all good things. It’s probably only the ‘unpredictability’ that gives him pause. Normally he might sit back just to find out what you’d do, because you’re one of the few people who can completely surprise him.”

Bobby shrugged as he pulled out of the lot. “But he’s not here, in town.” 

She reached forward, tapping the head on his dashboard bobblehead. How on earth did he get away with having a Derek Jeter bobblehead in his Rangeman truck, anyway? Surely Derek wasn’t regulation. She tilted her own head, giving one last tab to the figurine’s noggin. 

_Ugh, out loud_ , she thought as Bobby laughed again, “Ranger assesses me a fine every month for customizing my Rangeman vehicle,” he shrugged. “And another fine just because it’s the Yankees.” He grinned as he glanced her way. “Totally worth it, even if just for the look he gives me.” 

Stephanie chuckled, imagining the fleeting, squinted look of annoyance she’d seen wash over Ranger’s face once or twice. The one that looked as though he was afflicted with a momentary headache. And she realized she’d seen that exact look on his nephew Richie’s face the other day when his father had insisted he have some salad. The little boy’s expression had cleared right away, though, as soon as he’d discovered the chopped mango that added sweetness to the salad. She laughed again, this time more quietly.

Then, as Derek Jeter slowed his wobble, she glanced back at Bobby. “Ranger says I should ignore Vinnie if he calls. Do you think he is worried that I’ll shoot my cousin if I talk to him again?” She scowled, muttering, “Not that he doesn’t deserve it, but _sheesh_.”

Bobby pursed his lips in thought, slowing for traffic. “I heard the story from you and Lula, and also the abridged version from Ranger. And I wouldn’t exactly blame you if you went in, guns blazing. But that isn’t something you’d do. You don’t like guns. And, even though you’re impulsive, you’re also cunning and you play the long game. You wait for the right moment to smite the wicked and leave them aware that they’ve been justly smote. And Ranger knows that.” 

He tapped his large, gloved fingers on the steering wheel. “My best guess, knowing Ranger, is that he also knows you have a generous streak a mile wide. And he thinks maybe you’ll relent and go back to work for Vinnie if he asks you. Which, as unsolicited advice, I personally advise you don’t do. I’ve had my run-ins with the man, and he’s not good people.” The corners of lips tilted up. “And that, right there, is probably why we’re doing ride-along together today.” 

“Yeah, Vinnie has always been skeevy,” she said, thoughtful. “Do you think I should be pissed at him? And at Connie?” . 

“Hell yeah,” Bobby exclaimed. “More than enough to slam the door and leave them in your dust as you walk away, leaving them wanting and waiting vainly for you to return. But, Bomber, that’s not your style. As proven by what you’re about to do,” he frowned as he pulled into the Pino’s parking lot, weaving his truck between the snaggle of cars parked in haphazardly-shoveled spots. 

The tires crunched and groaned over well-packed layers of snow and ice. In the distance, where the lot met parking for Tony’s Thriftway, a few mountains of chunky ice and dirty snow had been scraped and dumped in place, over and over. Aided by storms dumping new snow on them, a couple were taller than Pino’s roof. 

_Huh_ , it looked like the younger generation of Pinos had become ecology conscious and stopped the venerable business practice of dumping shoveled snow into the Assunpink Creek after midnight. _Oh seriously, what was she thinking_? This was New Jersey. Moreover, this was Pino’s. Obviously they’d decided that the fines for getting caught were too high. Hence the new Pino’s-Tony’s foothill range.

Shaking her head, she noticed the truck had stopped in front of Pino’s front door. She glanced back at Bobby, whose dark, observant eyes were watching her like the professional bodyguard she knew he was. 

“Are you really sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” he asked. She reassured him that she’d be fine on her own as he glanced at PIno’s. Returning his attention to her, he said, “Stephanie, just remember that Joe Morelli is a reformed skirt chaser. And he backslides, like anyone who’s got a new religion. Don’t be fooled.” 

She put her hand on his arm, touched by the kind expression in his eyes. “I’m fine, Bobby. But thank you for the warning. I guess I’ve finally figured that out, too.” And, in fact, that was exactly why she was meeting Joe in public; no chance for her to be fooled in private by his bedroom eyes and by the history of good times between them. But, with that history, she did owe him a meeting after being away for so long. 

Just not a meeting back in his house, back in his bed. No, no, no.

She pulled her hand back with a brief smile. She then undid her seatbelt, pulled on her mittens, and retrieved her purse. In that time, Bobby had managed to trot around the truck to open her door and help her out onto the slippery pavement. She finger waved as she left Bobby and began to trudge the few steps to Pino’s door. 

Taking a deep breath, she reached for the door just as a couple left the restaurant, opening it for her. A wash of overheated air greeted her, flavored with the undertones of beer, pepperoni, Italian beef, and the spice of carpet shampoo. Coming in from the darkening late afternoon winter’s gray, her eyes barely needed to adjust to the mellow, amber tint of bar lighting when the front door closed behind her.

Perhaps her sight was still affected, though, because while it was the same Pino’s as it had ever been, it felt darker and smaller than she recalled. And yet, Joey Pino was still behind the bar along the side, with Bonnie and Jack. The two TVs still played sports, while the long rack of beer taps, the brass waitress station, and the bolted-in bar stools were just as she remembered. 

And the room, itself, was the same, ringed in wooden wainscotting and overflowing with tables that were more than half full at this hour, with people seated in the collection of mismatched spindle chairs. She glanced around the room, looking for the Trenton PD table, but was distracted by the decades of accumulated Christmas decorations and lights hanging everywhere. _Jeez, they took “deck the halls” seriously_ , she mused while scanning through the press of people. 

“Hey, it’s the Bombshell Bounty Hunter, back with us again,” Carl Costanza waved from a table along the back wall. Big Dog raised a half-empty mug of beer in her direction, followed by a chorus of likely inebriated greetings and cheers followed from their table, and a few adjacent ones as well. _Huh._ Apparently she’d been missed. 

Then Joe Morelli stood, arms out. “Steph,” he said with a big smile on his face. Time stopped briefly; her mind filled with moments when they’d been together. Mornings and evenings when she’d dreamt of being enveloped in those arms. Nights when she had been. 

“Welcome back,” he said, stepping forward, giving her another memory of being wrapped in his arms. She hugged him back and, after a sniffle, she realized that even Joe was the same, yet different. He still had his own male musk, mixed with Italian sub for lunch, gun cleaning oil, and a dash of Clubman aftershave. And, tonight, with beer as well. But there was something new in the mix that she didn’t recognize. A floral spice.

She stepped out of his arms, then shrugged. Well, everyone had said that he’d been dating while she’d been away. And, to be honest, she didn’t particularly feel bad knowing that. After all, she’d done her fair share of flirting with Ted down in Key Biscayne. Though, honestly, Ted was almost a fleeting memory after the past few days with Ranger. 

“Thanks for the welcome,” she smiled thoughtfully at Joe, and then at the old familiar faces arrayed at the table, including Carl, Big Dog, Mickey Bolan, and even Benny Gaspick. She also waved at the next table over, where Robin Russell and Shaneeka Brown were deep in discussion with a couple of people Stephanie didn’t recognize. She moved toward a chair at the other end of Joe’s table until he held his hand out. 

“Come with me over to the bar. I’ll buy you a drink and we can get some cheesy fries,” he said.

Without fail, the thought of cheesy fries sent her stomach into an audible grumble of agreement. Despite the saying that the way to catch a man was through his stomach, she’d long known that, alas, the secret to getting her attention was to wave dessert or cholesterol-laden snacks in her direction. 

“Come on, let’s feed the beast,” Joe laughed amiably as he placed his hand on her back in a familiar gesture as he steered toward the bar. She twitched away from his hand and moved in front of him. Because, really, it wasn’t like she didn’t know the way. 

After a round of catch-up with Bonnie at the bar, an overflowing plate of cheesy fries were arrayed in front of her and Joe. 

“Let’s sit over at that table for a bit and catch up,” Joe pointed his chin toward a two-top that was far enough away from the Trenton PD tables to be semi-private. _Perfect_ , she thought while agreeing. Then, with her coat draped over her purse arm and her rosé spritzer in her other hand, she followed him, while Bonnie brought over the fries and various other items. 

After they settled in, she looked up at Joe. She was still taken with how handsome he was. As a woman she could appreciate how his boyish charm was enhanced by the scar through his eyebrow. She could see how his intelligence was heightened by the handful of weathered wrinkles he’d acquired over the past couple of years. She still enjoyed the play of his Adam’s apple as he took a sip and swallowed his beer. She could appreciate his lean yet muscular frame through his cable sweater... and wait, was that sweater new? _Hmmm_. 

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. The main point here was that, though she recognized his male attraction, she didn’t actually _feel_ the pull she’d always felt before. 

_Well, that was interesting_ , she blinked. And actually rather convenient.

Joe put down his beer and she recognized the precursor to his interrogation look in the set of his brows and lips. Not wishing to start on the defensive, Stephanie began speaking. 

“Okay Joe, you know my story. Like I told Bonnie, it boils down to: sun, shopping, and more sun. Living in my friend Ellie’s condo while she was away and hanging out with her friends.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, and I forgot to mention this before. I filled in part time for Ellie’s waitress gig. It was kinda fun, for a change of pace. Though I went home smelling like grouper sandwiches afterward. Good thing Ellie doesn’t have a cat.” 

She took a sip of her drink while she watched amusement chase after speculation in Joe’s eyes. Always a detective, Joe never took anything at face value. Which, she realized in the moment, made him a great detective but, frankly, a frustrating boyfriend. There were things he never understood. Things he’d felt compelled to probe, which if he’d been wiser, he might have left alone. 

Too bad she hadn’t figured that out a long while ago, she thought while unwrapping a fork from its napkin. Then, leaving that wistful thought behind, she started into the cheese drizzled fries. _Mmmm…. Oh yes!_ Nobody made cheesy fries like Pino’s. She sat back, pausing to savor her fries while Joe’s eyes shaded from whiskey brown to black. 

“No cheesy fries in Key West, eh?”

“Key Biscayne,” she corrected, suppressing an eye roll while demurely covered her full mouth with her hand. After a dinner with Val’s daughters doing “gross out” at the table, she was particularly aware of the perils of talking with one’s mouth full. She swallowed, adding, “And they did have cheesy fries, but they weren’t the same.”

“Ah,” he said, reaching over to shovel some onto one of the small snack plates. _Oh yeah_ , that’s what they were for. 

“So, what did I miss here in Trenton? It feels like ages since I left, though it’s only been since Halloween.” She followed Joe’s lead and pulled a nice pile of fries onto her plate. And really, was it her fault if the pile of fries was higher than she’d intended, since the yummy, gooey cheese managed to pull along more than she’d scooped with her fork? 

“It _has_ been ages,” he replied. “I think it snowed about twenty times since then. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to drive without worrying about people fishtailing and skidding through intersections.” He speared some fries and continued. “Otherwise, it’s been slow. Crime has mostly been stupid— like the guy who decided to rob the Wawa convenience store while News-12 was there filming an on-camera story.” 

As Stephanie snorted, he shook his head, which was the Joe Morelli equivalent to rolling his eyes. “Other than that, let’s see… oh yeah, Grandma Bella cursed some guy at Dino’s Deli because he said she had to pay for her plastic bag. Apparently he didn’t get the memo to just charge her the ten cents without telling her.” 

At that, Stephanie couldn’t help but laugh. “There should be a ‘Cursed by Bella Morelli’ club. We’d fill the Ewing Elks Lodge ballroom.” 

Joe barked out his own laugh at that. “Now that would be a party.” Eyes still sparkling, he took a sip from his beer. Putting it back on the table, he leaned forward slightly. “I missed you, Steph.” His lips softened into an inviting smile, his eyes practically caressed her face. But, before Stephanie could reply with a similarly thoughtful, though less sensual comment, he winked. And then added, “Want to head back to my place, later? Bob missed you, too.” 

And, right there, Stephanie remembered her many sunbathing epiphanies about why her on-again, off-again relationship with Joe should remain in the permanently “off” position this time. How had she found this endearing before? Feeling almost tired rather than angry, she huffed, “Bob misses my leftover subs and pizza. And that I take him for longer walks than your neighbor’s kid does. But me, as a person? Not so much.” 

She snared another bite of fries onto her fork, perhaps a little more forcefully than was necessary. But, hey, she didn’t even break the plate. She was getting good at this ‘confrontation in public’ thing. 

Sitting back, Joe said, “Well, a man can try, right?” He shrugged. “And, for the record, I did miss you.” 

Joe continued talking, saving Stephanie from either having to fib or to admit what she’d realized during this conversation: that she hadn’t actually missed Joe, at all, for the past several weeks. 

“Things really have been quiet while you’ve been away. I’m not sure if it’s a coincidence, or not, but it’s true.” He reached forward for some fries, missing Stephanie’s eye roll. “One thing I wanted to mention before forgetting was the Trenton PD New Year’s party. I know you’ve been my plus-one for the past several years. But, well I wasn’t sure that you were going to be back in town, so I actually invited someone else.” 

Before she had a chance to answer, he looked up and caught her eyes. “I hope you’re not disappointed. But we can still go together to my cousin Mooch’s New Year’s Day football party.” 

And, wow, Joe had still not figured out that she would do just about anything to skip any event with Mooch. She gazed at his puppy-dog expression and just shook her head.

“Thanks, Joe, but I already have plans,” she said, deciding to let him go easily. Reaching for her spritzer, she asked in a casual voice, “What’s her name? Is she nice?” 

“Whose name?” he countered, his brows knitted. 

“The woman you’re taking to the TPD party.” Then, taking a shot in the dark, she added. “The woman who gave you that sweater.” _Point scored_ , she thought as he straightened in his chair. “You should probably invite her to Mooch’s party, too. Let her enjoy the full Morelli New Year’s experience.” She realized the last point sounded snippy, though she only partly meant it that way. In any case, she had no intention of apologizing. 

On the spot, she changed her mind about being mad that Joe Morelli was dating other women. She wasn’t mad that there were others; it was that he wasn’t telling her. But then, she realized she had been evading the same topic, herself. 

So, tilting her chin up, she put down her glass and looked directly at Joe. “While I was away, I went on a couple of maybe-dates. They were fun, but nothing special.” She mentally apologized to her friend Ted for dismissing his kindness so readily. “But then, a few days ago, I found out completely by chance that Ranger had relocated to Miami after that whole mess with his daughter. He invited me out one night, just before I left, and it was really nice. Without all the drama of being here, with all our history and everything.” 

She watched as Joe’s eyes went from cautious to incredulous, and from there to something like disgust. So, time to pull off the final bandaid, she thought. “Anyhow, I’m thinking of going back down there after the holidays. I mean, I liked it there anyway, and have a couple of job offers. But, I think I’m ready to explore what it might be like to see if there really is something there between Ranger and me.”

“Why am I not surprised?” His arms crossed as he spoke. “He’s probably the reason you were there this whole time. Well, it’s been obvious for a while that you’re more invested in Ranger’s life, his danger, than in mine.”

But was Joe ever “invested” in me, she wondered? Deciding that nothing he’d just said actually mattered to her, she simply said, “Joe, it’s been a while since either of us was invested in the other. And you know it. We’ve just been going through the motions, and you know that also. I’m telling the honest truth when I say that I hope whoever you’re seeing, now, is a better fit. That you can settle down with her the way you want and that you’re happy together.” 

She tamped down the mischievous part of her that wanted to add, “And that Bob actually _does_ miss her.” 

Joe exhaled, a bull in the ring with nobody to chase after. Then he sat forward, “Well, I guess our cards are all on the table here. I’ve been seeing a couple of women. And like you said, it’s been really nice, without all the _history_ ,” he scornfully emphasized the final word. “I think it’s going to be a while before I’m ready to settle down, again. Don’t wait for the wedding invitation in the mail.” He pushed back his chair and dropped his napkin on the table. 

“Goodbye Joe,” Stephanie looked up at him. She saw a man who’d been important to her, for various reasons both good and bad, for most of her life. And she knew she was saying more than a simple evening’s farewell. She could see the same conclusion on his face as he replied with his own goodbye with a nod, and then lips pressed together, he turned back to the TPD tables.

Stephanie scooped up the last of the cheesy fries, unconcerned by the heads that were swiveling between her and Joe. She was saying goodbye to that, too, this evening. 

She picked up her spritzer, intending to enjoy the last of her time tonight at Pino’s, when her phone vibrated in her pocket. Hoping it was Ranger, she held it up to her ear and answered without looking. Only to be greeted by Vinnie Plum’s whiny, snarling voice.

“What the heck did you tell Ranger?” he started without any preamble. 

“Hmm, let’s see. I told him that Lula has a new job, that I liked the flowers he sent, and that his housekeeper makes a beef stroganoff to die for.” She grinned, moving the phone aside to finish her drink. 

“Very funny,” Vinnie snapped back. Then, in his usual, oily drone, he said. “So, you know that I was just putting one over on you earlier, right? That I was just pissed at having to actually find and hire a different BEA while you were away. I mean, I had to go all the way to Rhode Island to find someone, so you know he doesn’t know Trenton like you do.” 

He finally took a breath. “Anyhow, when you come back tomorrow we can review the handful of open skips on the books.” 

“Vinnie, I’m not coming back tomorrow.” Stephanie put down her glass and removed the napkin from her lap. 

“Okay, you need more time off. That’s fine,” Vinnie droned on. Stephanie listened as he walked through scenarios that featured her glorious return and his magnanimity. Meanwhile, she pulled some money from her purse and tucked a tip under her plate. Joe had, of course, added a tip when paying for the fries and wine, but she wanted the Pino’s crew to know that she, Stephanie Plum, was leaving happy with their service.

“Vinnie,” she finally cut him off as she stood. “I’m not coming back, ever. You and Connie made it perfectly clear that I’m not welcome there, so I’ve found something else. Go back to the barnyard animals in your office; they miss you.” She disconnected the call. Then, as he immediately called back while she was putting on her coat, she tapped to send it to voicemail and spent a moment setting all Plum Bonds numbers to “ignore.” 

With another smile, she finger waved her goodbye to the TPD tables, where several people were clearly still watching her. She also waved at the staff behind the bar, and then turned to walk out the door. Into the ridiculously brisk weather. She hurried to put on her mittens and brought up her scarf to cover her face. Still needing to see, of course, she felt her eyelashes start to freeze. 

Fortunately a Rangeman truck was parked exactly where Bobby had promised. Though, as she got closer she saw Lester jump out to open the door for her. 

“Seriously, you guys can’t follow me around twenty-four hours a day for the rest of my waking life,” she said, teeth chattering as she hurried to hoist herself into the truck.” 

Lester just laughed as he closed the door and returned to the driver’s side. “Hey, I volunteered when Bobby got called away. I might’ve come, anyway, just to find out how your evening went with the cop.” He darted a look her way before putting the truck into reverse. “Beautiful, you trying to make Ranger jealous?” 

Stephanie sighed. The Rangemen were such gossips. “No, I’m not. Joe called this morning and asked me to join him and the guys tonight. We’ve been part of each other’s lives so long that it just seemed like the right thing to do. Of course, this being Joe and me, we managed to have a final breakup discussion in public, in the middle of the restaurant.”

Lester snorted, then glanced at her again after pulling out of the lot. “A ‘final’ breakup discussion?” 

“Yeah. Us being together, it was never right. ” She exhaled slowly, watching the snow clad buildings pass by like a bunch of old men huddled under Trenton’s aging streetlights. 

She turned toward Lester. “You guys all talk, so you probably know that Ranger ran into me while I was in Miami.” He nodded while watching the road. “And I think he’s trying to convince me to come down there, too. Which is really tempting, by the way.” Lester’s smile was his only answer. 

“So Les, why is Ranger fixing my apartment if he wants me to go to Miami?” She couldn’t help thinking about Joe, when he wanted her to leave her apartment. Apparently his tactic had been to leave everything broken in the hope that she’d just give up. 

“You’d have to ask him,” Les replied, his eyes quickly darting her way, as though checking that she was paying attention. “My guess, though, is that he wants you to make a decision based on what you want to do— where you decide you want to be— rather than just running away from something bad. Because that’s not a real choice. Not something that lasts.”

 _Huh_ , well that was different. Something new.

“Les, you know Ranger gave me an airline ticket to go back down there. I could even go back before New Years, if I wanted,” she said, testing the idea out loud.

Les pulled to a stop at a red light. He shifted in his seat so he was looking directly at her. “Well, Beautiful. I’d better take you directly home so you can start packing.” 

His smile was a mile wide. Stephanie knew that hers was blossoming to match his. She pulled out her phone, again, this time to call Ranger. 

_To be continued..._


	11. What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story disclaimers and background can be found at the start of Chapter 1.

* * *

**Chapter 11: What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?**

A waft of cool air from the ceiling fluttered against her curls as Stephanie passed through the  Miami Executive Airport security gate. Feeling a shiver where her hair had begun tickling her neck, she reached up to finger the offending strands from under her collar. And, of course, that movement caused her winter coat to slither off her arm, where it had been draped, down to the floor. 

She bent down to lift it, only to see a pair of men’s shoes stopped beside her, along with a square, tanned hand already picking up her coat. 

“We may need a slight refresher on ‘awareness of your surroundings’,” Ranger drawled from above. 

With a snort, she straightened up and saw the expected smirk on his lips, as she retrieved her coat from his hand. “How do you know this wasn’t a clever ploy to lure you closer?” 

“Already there, Babe,” he replied as he snared her close with his now-freed arm. 

With a pleased sigh, she released her rolling carry-on and surrendered to his embrace. Her arms wrapped under his open windbreaker and, oh, he was warm and so lusciously male. “I missed you, Ranger,” she mumbled into his shoulder, inhaling his scent. His aftershave— she sniffed again; she’d have to find out what he was using now instead of Bvlgari— combined perfectly with his natural musk. 

“Missed you too, Steph,” he bussed her hair with his lips. His arms were snug around her as he murmured something else, which she didn’t quite catch. 

She was breathless, even though she’d known Ranger was meeting her here, today. She’d only been away for about a week, but it seemed so much longer. She arched her neck slightly to look up, catching his deep brown eyes with hers. “I’m exactly where I want to be,” she said.

His lips quirked in a smile. “You have a thing for airports?” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “I can work with that.” 

She whapped his upper arm. And  _ ouch _ , she needed to remember that the man was pure muscle. “I have a thing for  _ you _ , Ranger. You should know that by now.” She felt heat rising to her cheeks. 

“Is that so?” he asked. His voice dropped an octave as he added, “I can work with that, even better.” Then, his face dipped slightly and she felt his lips—his generous lips, his full and firm lips— meet hers. The sweet, slow press of his kiss heated quickly with slow, soft nibbles along her lips. His breath deepened as she reciprocated; his arms tightened as the tip of her tongue reached out for a tentative caress along the seam of his lips.

And then the sound of someone clearing his throat interrupted the moment. With a final, soft touch of his lips, Ranger pulled back and nodded at a trim yet muscular man standing at an attentive distance. 

Still in his arms, Stephanie half-whispered, “I guess we both need to work on awareness of our surroundings.” She felt his quiet laugh rumble against her. 

“Yo, boss,” the other man said, and now Stephanie could see his Rangemen T-shirt. “Ma’am,” he added, removing his ball cap and nodding toward her.

“Steph, this is Logan,” Ranger said. 

“Call me Stephanie,” she smiled as she reluctantly pulled away from Ranger. 

“Yes ma’am. I mean Stephanie.” 

“We all set?” Ranger asked. 

“Think so, sir. We have eleven checked items, is that right?”

She followed the dart of Logan’s gaze toward the baggage pickup area. Though there weren’t many people in the terminal on New Year’s Eve, several attendants in burgundy vests and matching tan slacks hovered, visibly eager to reunite people with their luggage. Or, with their twin collies, in the case of the tall, slim woman in a power suit who was currently gushing over her furry Starsky and Hutch-i-kins. 

Stephanie spotted another, stockier man, also in a Rangeman T-shirt, standing by a bellhop-sized luggage cart. Which was loaded almost to overflowing with—  _ oh, oops _ — her suitcases and boxes. Yup, all eleven of them.

“Steph?” Ranger prompted. 

“Oh yeah, Logan. Eleven is right. Four suitcases and seven boxes.” Nibbling at her lower lip, she glanced sideways at Ranger. “I may have gotten carried away when I decided what to pack.” 

“Which is why I brought Logan, here, and Javi,” his chin pointed toward the Rangeman by the luggage cart. “And an SUV with extra cargo capacity,” he finished, eyes gleaming in amusement. 

She snorted. “I guess Cal tattled on me after he dropped me at the airport. Seriously, though, I never knew that one of the advantages of executive flying was that you could bring so much extra baggage.” 

“Both Cal and the airplane manifest gave me a clue,” Ranger’s lip tipped in amusement. He reached over to tuck an errant curl behind her ear, then slid his fingers all the way down to her hand. “Besides, Babe, I told you it was fine to bring what made you feel comfortable, and to let Vince bring Rex and anything you forgot when he drives down next weekend.” 

“And I really appreciate it,” she replied, wrapping her fingers in his. While they walked with Logan over to the luggage cart, she reflected that Ranger’s offer meant that she’d been able to bring everything she needed to really, completely be here in Florida. No more living half a life while straddling two possible locations, one foot in each. 

She’d done that for far too long. She’d had her own apartment but eaten, done laundry, and stored belongings and off-season clothing at her parents' house. Whenever she’d moved in with Joe, she’d kept her apartment so she could easily move out at any time. She’d gotten close to Ranger, even staying with him, while keeping Joe as a safety option. 

Well, it had all seemed like safety, but really it had increasingly felt as though she was living along a thin, precarious edge of her life without diving in. 

She glanced at Ranger, whose wry expression no-doubt meant he was aware that she hadn’t been following his conversation with Logan. Nor had she paid attention to the fact that, somewhere along the line, her carry-on suitcase and winter coat had joined the pile on the luggage cart. While she watched, Ranger tossed his keys to Logan, at which point the two Rangemen began pushing the cart toward the exit.

Ranger turned, resting his hand on the small of her back. “What do you say, Babe? Ready to roll?”

His touch had restored her to the moment, to the start of her new life. So, with an almost giddy smile she answered, “Sure am Batman, let’s go.” He nodded with a satisfied expression and began directing them both toward the door.

Something tickled in the back of her mind as she watched Ranger’s men push the luggage cart through the sliding exit doors. The tickle resolved into a shudder as she could almost picture walking with Dickie Orr, following the bellhops into their honeymoon hotel while arguing about how many suitcases she’d brought. Probably that, right there, should’ve been a big clue that something might not be right. That, and the fact that she’d actively hated the way he’d always clamped his arm over her shoulders so firmly that it was almost impossible to walk unless she exactly matched her gait with his. As though she were simply an extension of him. 

So differently from how Ranger’s hand rested along her waist as lightly as a promise. 

Her shoulders twitched again as she wondered what it meant that getting married to Dickie— with his judgmental and heavy, clamping arm— might have been the last adult-style commitment she’d made? 

Until now. Well, that  _ really  _ was something to think about. 

_ Or maybe just let it go _ , she thought as the gentle glide of Ranger’s hand along her waist made her aware that she’d stopped walking during her Dickie blast-from-the-past. Only a half-step beyond her, he’d stopped and turned. She looked up into his concerned gaze. 

“Did you forget something?” he asked, brows creased as though already planning detailed contingencies for how to retrieve or replace the as-yet unknown, forgotten thing. 

But she hadn’t forgotten anything. Nothing worthy of remembering, anyway. Reaching up to brush his shoulder in reassurance, she smiled. “No. It’s nothing. I just realized I left behind even more unnecessary crap in Trenton than I even realized. And I don’t need any of it.” 

His eyes searched hers. Then, apparently finding what he was looking for, he nodded. “Good to jettison what you don’t need.” Tilting his head toward the exit, he added, “In the meantime, let’s catch up with what you  _ did  _ bring.” 

The sliding doors reopened, replacing the air conditioned, soft lighting of the terminal building with an inward puff of humid sunshine. Ranger pulled out Oakley’s from his windbreaker pocket. Having prepared, she pulled on her own sunglasses. Then, ready for the sun, she glanced at Ranger and saw her smile reflected in his shades and echoed in the relaxed contentment of his lips. 

Of course, because this was Ranger, his vehicle was right outside the terminal exit. Logan and Javi made quick work of loading the back of the notably large, black SUV, while Ranger opened the passenger door. He held out his hand to help her climb into the seat, which  _ holy cow  _ she needed because it was like hoisting herself from the lawnmower shed up to the roof of her parents’ garage when she was ten.

After she was buckled in, Ranger stepped over to his men for another quick conversation. She sat back in the ample bucket seat, where there was almost enough room for two of her. She looked around. No dust or food wrappers anywhere, of course, in a Rangeman vehicle. The glovebox was surprisingly unlocked with only a folio of car manuals in it. She adjusted her seat forward, and then back, and leaned down to start feeling around for the gun safe. 

“Misplace something, Babe?” Ranger asked as he opened the driver’s door. 

“No, just checking out the vehicle safety features. You know me,” she straightened, pulling her seatbelt on.

“That I do,” he nodded once while starting the car. He pressed a couple of buttons in the center console, causing a gentle flow of air conditioning to dispel the wisps of heat that had lingered along her skin. Soft jazz began drifting in the wake of the cooled air. 

Glancing first at his side mirror, Ranger pulled away from the curb. “The gun safe is well hidden,” he said in a conversational tone, proving that he did, indeed, know her. Then, eyes glinting in amusement, he glanced her way. “Speaking of well hidden, did you leave your gun in the cookie jar again?” 

She snorted, but then realized, “Oh jeez, you know I probably did leave my gun there when I packed.” Turning to squint at the boxes filling the cargo area. “I think it’s in the box labeled ‘Medium Sized Stuff,’ though it might be in the ‘Open Me First’ box. You know, I’m surprised it got through airport luggage screening,” she mused, with a look at Ranger, as this was the type of mystery he was ideally suited to answer. 

The faint pinch in his lips hinted strongly that he was refraining from saying anything. Probably he was relieved she hadn’t been detained in the special gray, windowless room where New Jersey stashed perky possible terrorists. Or, having lived through many of her car and apartment disasters, it was even more likely that he was envisioning a gamut of mishaps stemming from an exploding ceramic, brown-bear cookie jar. 

Poor Ranger, having to worry about so many things all the time. Smiling, she  reassured,  “Don’t worry. My gun is never loaded. So, nothing bad could happen. Probably that’s what the screening guys figured out.”

“Something like that, Babe,” he said, his lips tipped in amusement. After merging onto the expressway, he glanced her way. “There’s a protocol for checking firearms when flying, which we’ll review next time you travel somewhere.  This airline, though, is very familiar with Rangeman and our specialized luggage. I know for a fact they know how to properly deal with undeclared weapons. You’ll probably find an inspection slip inside that box.” 

“Oh, that makes sense,” she nodded. She  _ knew  _ Ranger would know the answer. 

She relaxed into her seat, watching his focus shift to the traffic on the road ahead. The cobalt of his casual windbreaker and the deeper blue of his polo flattered him, emphasizing his healthful tan. He seemed wrapped in the vibrant, late afternoon sky and blessed with the hint of the distant ocean’s color.

_ He really belongs here _ , she thought. 

_ And he wants me here, too _ …. Her lips still hummed with the electricity of his kiss at the airport. Her entire body still felt wrapped in the strength of his arms. In her mind’s eye, she could still see the fullness of contentment on his face as he’d led her outside to his SUV. 

With one more glance at Ranger, who seemed to have settled into his driving zone, she leaned back into her very comfy bucket seat. 

She watched the neighborhoods, shops, and open spaces pass by as they drove, testing out the idea that she was driving toward what was now going to become her city. Sunny Miami, with tall shiny buildings, palm trees and palmettos, and showy billboards for T-Mobile, Bacardi, and Casino Miami Jai-alai. And lush Key Biscayne, with its pastel hues, small shops, and beaches. 

It almost felt like a dream, except her sore muscles from packing and moving out of her apartment reminded her that this was all real. And, oh, also…. “Ranger, thanks for lending Cal and Chet to help me get my stuff all organized before leaving.” She turned to face him. “And for use of the van. I was going to lose my security deposit if I didn’t get rid of my furniture.” She squinted. “I thought for sure that Dillon would’ve taken it, but I guess it was too craptastic even for him.” 

Ranger exhaled something that sounded like a snort of laughter. Well, that’s how it would’ve sounded if he were anyone other than Ranger. He glanced her way. “You’re welcome, though they both volunteered. Any other time of the year you probably would have had even more help.” He reached his hand out, finding hers. “None of us felt good about you living there, Babe. Too unsafe. Too many times we didn’t get there soon enough,” his voice darkened.

“Even so, it felt strange leaving it for the last time. It was so small when it was empty, but even so it echoed.” She paused, “I do feel bad, though. You went to the effort to get my bedroom window replaced, and then I immediately moved out.” 

“Think of it as a long-deferred wish that I got to fulfill.” 

She chuckled. “Well, that apartment’s in the past, now,” she squeezed his hand, ignoring what sounded like a grumbled “Thank God.”

She continued, “When I find an apartment down here, I promise this time I’ll let you put in security. And I’ll even learn how to use it without shooting it, or something.” She fidgeted with his hand, snaring their little fingers together. “And hey,” she said, “I’m even pinkie swearing it.”

There was that snort again, as Ranger tightened his fingers, and then shifted his hand to wrap around hers, again. “That makes me feel immeasurably better. Though my offer still remains. You’re welcome to stay with me.” He paused a beat. “Both you and Rex. And your boxes.” 

“I know,” she said, smoothing her thumb again over his warm, strong hand. “It’s just that this is a new start and I want to figure out what that’s like.” She paused, recalling how she’d explained this to Mary Lou. Looking at Ranger, she finally said, “You already know that I came down here for my college roommate Ellie’s wedding. Being around her and her friends reminded me of what I was like, back then. In a good way.” She blinked. “You know, I’d forgotten how free I felt then, like a brand-new adult who could do anything.”

“As far as I’ve seen, Steph, you still can do anything you decide to try.” 

Scooting toward him as far as her seat belt allowed, she stretched a bit further to lean her head briefly on his shoulder. “You’re always so supportive. I don’t know why it took me so long to realize it.” 

“Always, Babe,” he murmured. 

Her breath shuddered briefly. And then, with a chaste kiss to the swell of his muscular arm, she pushed herself back up into her seat with an audible “oof.”  _ And, geez, could the stick shift be in any more of a rib-bruising location? _ Angling up to sit straight, again, she released Ranger’s hand to re-adjust her seatbelt. 

As she wrestled in place, Ranger steered into the cloverleaf to another highway. And how perfect! It was the Dolphin Expressway. She was moving from a state with prosaic, numbered highways to a place that named them after Flipper, one of her favorite Saturday afternoon reruns from childhood. Well, maybe Flipper was a porpoise, not a dolphin; she could never keep that one straight. In any case, it was a good omen.

As another good omen, the car stereo had started playing one of Grandma Mazur’s favorite songs. She was bathed in a lush woman’s voice singing “Blue skies shining on me, nothing but blue skies do I see.” Even the radio was telling her she was obviously making the right decision.

She turned to explain this combination of obviously positive omens to Ranger, but realized that he didn’t need omens or other external validation for his decisions. And, also, that she hadn’t quite finished what she was trying to tell him. 

Well, she’d resolved to be better at communicating. So, she continued her explanation. “ Anyhow , back to what I was saying. The last few months made me realize that it’s been a long time since I  _ felt  _ like the Stephanie Plum who Ellie remembered. The one with her life in front of her, who knew she could do anything she wants.” 

She paused, noting Ranger’s frown of concentration. The one that indicated that he was listening— really listening— even though his eyes were focused intently on the traffic ahead. 

She swallowed, knowing that she was at the main point of what she wanted to say. Sitting up, she forged ahead. “We’ve talked about what it would be like to really be in a relationship. Well, I want to bring that can-do Stephanie into whatever relationship we build between us. Like I said on the phone the other night, I don’t want to be the old Stephanie, where I kept plonking my stuff in your apartment and camping out because, once again, I didn’t think ahead. Like you were just convenient, or temporary.” 

“I wouldn’t see it that way,” he said, darting a glance her way. 

“I know. But I might. And that’s the point.” She shrugged, mentally deflecting memories of Joe accusing her, with some validity, of doing exactly that. “Anyway, Ranger, that’s why I’m going back to Ellie’s condo for the week until she returns. That’ll give me time to find a place of my own.” 

She paused for a breath, then couldn’t help adding, “If I’m really lucky, I’ll find someplace like Ellie’s that’s cozy and convenient. And, holy cow, with modern appliances, please.” 

“I told you I’d help you find the right place,” Ranger murmured.

“I know you said that, but you’re busy. I don’t want to impose.”

“I’ve promised to not be too busy for you.” 

She felt her heart go all gooey with awe. “You know I appreciate everything you do for me, right?” His brows furrowed behind his shades as though he were searching for deeper meaning. So, she hastened to add, “Don’t worry. That’s like ‘thank you’ but with different words. Like giving someone an extra donut because you didn’t remember to get the cake but you still want to give them sugary appreciation. Which, well, I guess is possibly even more confusing,” she concluded, realizing that she was halfway into an epic babble. 

She was relieved, though, to see that his expression was still telegraphing something between indulgence and outright amusement. She should’ve remembered this: that even when he didn’t follow her details, he always seemed to enjoy hearing what she had to say. 

So, she resumed her explanation. “I always appreciate your help. But you might not know that I spoke with your sister Ariana about trying out her estate management job for a week or so. While we were talking, she said she thought she knew of a place I’d really like that was coming available. So, I already have some options.” 

“That you do,” he replied with a smirk that looked oddly cat-ate-the-canary satisfied. Well, Ranger always did like to look out for her, and probably felt that having her work for his sister was the next best thing to working at Rangeman. 

“Will you need a car?” Ranger interjected casually, his eyes on the road. 

“Yeah, probably,” she shrugged. “I figure I can look into that this week, too. And before you show up with a shiny Porsche or something to lend me, remember that we haven’t determined yet whether I’m free from the curse of Molotov cocktails through the passenger window or garbage trucks falling from the skies.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Thinking of her crap cars reminded her of one truly cathartic moment in Trenton. “Did Cal tell you about excavating my car from under Blizzard Mountain in Trenton and taking it to Big Al’s Salvage and Sales?” Crossing her arms, she sniffed while adding, “And not to Rosolli’s Junkyard, thank you very much.” 

“Can’t blame you there, Babe.” he said while slowing to change lanes. 

“Thanks. Anyway, my car started out as a junker and then, after spending a couple months under six feet of snow and ice, they couldn't resell it. So, they extracted the few parts they could use, and then...” she paused dramatically. “Then, they let me watch them put it in the big, red car smasher. And,  _ ka-boom _ , they totally flattened it. It was really fun.” She felt herself grinning ear-to-ear at the memory.

“Should I worry that you’ve come to enjoy having your cars destroyed?” Ranger’s eyebrow peeked out and hovered above his shades.

“No, this was special. It was like saying goodbye to the crappy parts of living in Trenton, in one big, loud smash.” She grinned at the memory. “Cal and Chet both whooped along with me. And then, Big Al gave me a paperweight made from crushed parts, topped with the flying serpent that had been welded to the hood.” She twisted toward the cargo compartment. “That’s  _ definitely  _ in the ‘Open Me First’ box in the back.”

“You never disappoint, Steph.” As he spoke, he turned the steering wheel to start them across the first bridge from mainland Miami to Key Biscayne. The low, afternoon sun behind them scattered gems of light atop the rippling water of the bay. 

Stephanie’s ears picked up a low, sensuous voice on the car stereo singing “What are you doing  New Year’s Eve?”

“That song reminds me, Ranger,” she glanced sideways at him through her lashes. “You said to make sure I had something nice to wear this evening, but you never told me why.” 

“I did promise it wasn’t for a distraction,” he deadpanned. 

“Yeah, because I said I’d bring Grandma Mazur with me, if it was.”

“A threat I always take seriously, Babe” he replied. 

Unable to see his eyes under his sunglasses, she tried to determine if he was serious or amused. Finally she decided that the suspicious tilt to his lip meant it was the latter. Probably. 

She noticed, though, that he still hadn’t told her what he had planned for tonight. She squinted in his direction, listening to the music in the background. She knew that Ranger always did his best to deliver on his promises. But she was not— had never been— a patient person. And Ranger knew that. 

Nevertheless, she attempted to disguise her antsy, trying-to-act-indifferent energy by swaying slightly to the music, earning her another glance from behind Ranger’s sunglasses. This time, his lips betrayed unambiguous humor as he said, “I made reservations for New Year’s Eve dinner tonight at Three Palms. It’s the late seating, so we can stay through the midnight countdown.” He paused again before adding, “If you’d like.” 

“Ranger, that sounds really nice.” Over the past several weeks, she’d heard her friends enthuse about holiday dinners at that restaurant, and she had to admit he’d outdone her expectations. Both dining  _ and  _ dancing, if she remembered correctly. 

Then, she blinked as the restaurant name fully registered. “Wait, that was the place where I first saw you that night, just before Christmas. Next to the bar where I was.” With a slight growl to her voice, she added, “You were walking your date back to the parking lot.”

“Right restaurant, wrong date,” he glanced at her with the hint of a shrug. Then he returned his attention to the road, adding, “In retrospect, I consider that evening to have been a scouting mission. Like recon.” 

“If we ever meet your date from that night, can I tell her that?” 

That earned her an actual laugh. “As long as I’m there to see the fireworks.” He smirked while adding, “Just don’t hurt her too much. She’s my sister Carmen’s college friend.” 

Stephanie snorted, though she had a strong suspicion that he wasn’t kidding.  _ Well, hold my beer _ , Stephanie thought, having total faith in her own proven, Jersey-bred ability to hold her own in any conversation with former girlfriends or dates.  _ Thank you very much  _ Joyce Barnhardt and Terry Grizolli. Not to mention Robin Russell, as if Stephanie hadn’t figured out  _ that  _ not-so-secret recent history. She squared her shoulders at the thought.

After a breath or two, though, she found she’d relaxed again without even thinking about it. The tree-lined boulevard through the Key Biscayne state preserve gave way to the main thoroughfare through the town. Her eyes tracked along all the now familiar sights. As the Spanish market, the local artists’ jewelry store, and the sailing themed café passed, one by one, a warmth welled from within. Apparently her heart really hadn’t meant “goodbye” when she’d left all of these places behind just one week ago.

“Almost back home, Babe,” Ranger’s voice recaptured her attention, echoing her thoughts as he so often did. 

She turned toward him with a smile. “It’s odd, but that’s really how it feels. Like home; like it’s my community.” 

Then her smile faltered, overtaken by a pang of disloyalty for the home she’d just left behind. Her father’s concern, her mother’s tough support, her sister and nieces sharing their eccentric spirit. And, speaking of eccentricity, there was her Grandma Mazur, go-go dancing and gun waving as a public service to stretch the boundaries of familial embarrassment. Beyond that, there was Lula’s loyalty and Mary Lou’s unwavering acceptance. She was leaving all of them behind. 

While she pondered, Ranger turned off the main road toward Ellie’s neighborhood. “It’s your talent,” he said so quietly that it almost seemed that he was talking to himself, though she knew that was her habit, not his. She studied his face in the dappled shadows from riffling palm fronds overhead.

Then he glanced her way. “I saw it at Rangeman,” he said. His expression hinted at amusement mixed with something fierce, like pride. “You accept people no matter who they are, show us the best in each other, and don’t give up on anyone.” He returned his attention to the road. “That changes people. Forges connections, makes communities. In that way, you never really leave them.” 

“Huh. Really?” Stephanie blinked. How had he known that was worrying her?  _ Oh, never mind. Of course he knew _ . _ He was Ranger.  _

A rare smile teased along his lips. “Bobby pointed out that Rangeman really shouldn’t have worked out, very long, from an organizational standpoint. We’re about sixty percent veterans, another ten percent former cops and feds, and a full thirty percent ex-cons and gang-bangers. People of color at the top, work teams crossing race, religion, and class backgrounds.” He shrugged. “Not the usual recipe for long-term organization stability. But then you came along, and within a few months Rangeman started being a true ‘band of brothers.’ And you know me: I don’t believe in coincidence.” 

“Wow,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” he replied, that hint of a smile still lighting his face as he slowed in front of Ellie’s condo complex. The SUV tires crunched on sand and crushed shells as they turned into the parking lot. And, once again, the never-available spot nearest to Ellie’s building was open. 

While Ranger parked, Logan and Javi emerged from another black SUV, parked in the next row. While she watched, they liberated a set of wheeled moving carts from the back of their vehicle. And now Stephanie knew how her boxes were getting from Ranger’s trunk to Ellie’s house. Her sore muscles celebrated Ranger’s thoughtful, all-encompassing help.

She turned to share her happiness, only to find the driver’s seat empty. 

“Surroundings, Babe,” Ranger murmured behind her as he opened the passenger door. Holding out his hand, he helped her clamber down. 

“Says the Wizard, who could be anywhere. At any time,” she mumbled while untangling her purse strap and then hoisting it to her shoulder. And how the heck did purse straps— like Christmas tree lights and earbud cords— get tangled, all by themselves, while just sitting there?

Ranger’s exhale reached snort territory as he closed the passenger door. “Ready?” he asked, gesturing toward the sidewalk. 

She took a few steps and then paused. “Wait,” she said, turning around. “Don’t we need to tell your guys how to find the condo?”

Ranger tilted his head and looked about to answer. But instead, he reached up to remove his sunglasses in the languishing daylight that was giving way to dusk. Shrugging as he slipped the folded glasses into his jacket pocket, he finally said, “They won’t have any problem finding it.” 

She glanced sideways at him, remembering how she’d wandered around the complex a couple of times before finding Ellie’s condo on her first visit. But then, of course, she had also been busy checking out the pool, the tennis court in the distance, and the path to the beach. 

So, yeah, maybe it wouldn’t have been as hard to find if she’d been more focused. And, of course, Logan and Javi were Rangemen, trained at finding the most elusive fugitives in foreign bazaars, no-name shantytowns, and New Jersey shopping malls. They could find anything.

Secure in her conclusion, she realized they’d resumed walking toward Ellie’s condo. In the interim, Ranger had taken her hand. The firm pressure of his fingers and the lazy movement of his thumb against her palm felt so natural, even though this hand-holding was a new thing. Not something he’d done much, if ever, the entire time she’d known him in Trenton. And yet, just today, they’d walked hand-in-hand at the airport, and again here. 

Removing her own sunglasses with her free hand, she blinked back an unexpected prickle of moisture. Had she ever truly believed that she’d find herself thinking of Ranger— a.k.a., Batman, the Man of Mystery, the Wizard— as her “sure thing”? That he would be the man with whom she’d feel most  _ complete  _ when walking at this side?

“Penny for your thoughts,” Ranger’s voice quietly interrupted her musings. 

“Only a penny?” She peered at him through lashes. Then she grinned as his eyebrow and the corner of his lip rose in concert, speculation and amusement vying for prominence. 

“You did suggest, earlier, that providing a car wasn’t appropriate at this point.” 

And here was a new discovery: it was possible to laugh while rolling one’s eyes at the same time. “Possibly there’s something between a penny and a car,” she suggested, still bringing her laughter under control. Then she gathered herself together, circling back to answer his original question. “I was just thinking how nice this is. Walking together, to a place that feels like home. With the added benefit of palm trees and a pool.” 

And, in fact, both of those things were now in her view. In the waning light, the lamps inset within the pool glowed like lucent pearls being caressed by the darkened shadows of waving palms. The seats around the pool were empty, though the pulse of dance music emerged from one of the condos within walking distance. In warmer weather, Stephanie imagined that the whole complex would come alive on holidays.

She sighed, knowing that she’d miss that, but decided she would look for a place that was just as nice. Starting tomorrow. Probably.

For now, though, she was ready to be at her temporary home, which was just around the next corner. Glancing toward Ranger, she said, “I guess it’s a good thing that I accidentally kept Ellie’s extra keys in my winter coat when I left. I mean, I know you could pick the lock, but it will also be nice to be able to leave and come back on my own.”

“Yeah, about that,” Ranger murmured. As he inhaled, his face took on an almost hesitant expression. As they turned down the path to Ellie’s condo, he pointed toward the door with his chin. 

A colorful poster of a face was covering the door. “What the…?” Stephanie said. Without thinking, she’d begun to step sideways toward the door as though it was a skip waving a gun. Or, at least waving a Super Soaker filled with Kool Aid, like one of her last skips before Ellie’s wedding. Releasing Ranger’s hand, she reached for her purse, which was always heavy enough to be a respectable weapon.

And then, she saw it. Blinking, she stopped walking. And then she blinked again.

“Ranger, it’s a ginormous poster of Cindy-Lou Who from the  _ Grinch _ ! And a giant red gift bow. Like my dream.” Her eyebrows rushed together into a full crease of confusion between her eyebrows. Then she heard Ranger beside her. Was that a cough? Was he clearing his throat? 

She felt him shrug just as she turned her gaze his way.

“That’s my sister Ariana’s doing. I told her about your dream of coming home and finding them on your door.” He still had that almost hesitant look on his face. Well, she hadn’t yet released her white-knuckled grip on her purse, so maybe he sensed handbag-induced danger was still in the offing. 

She exhaled, releasing her hold on her purse to let it hang, again, loosely on her shoulder. With a half-smile, she shook her head and said, “I can’t believe you remember  _ that _ . Of all the things I’ve said.” 

“Stephanie, I remember everything you tell me. Why wouldn’t I?” Now Ranger’s brows were creasing his forehead, telegraphing their own bewilderment. 

Without thinking, she slid her palm from his fingers, and then turned to rest both hands on his shoulders. “I’m more used to people having a more selective memory, usually focused on my  _ faux pas  _ or what I should have done if only I’d been listening,” she confessed with a mental handbag-slap at Joe Morelli and Dickie Orr, among others. 

“Their mistake, Babe.” His arms came around her, pulling her toward him. His lips pressed softly against the top of her head. 

“Keep saying nice things like that, and this could work out between us.” She wriggled in his arms until she was looking into his eyes. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied with amusement lighting his gaze.

Then, with a thwump, Ellie’s front door swung open behind her. Before the giant bow’s red ribbons finished fluttering, Stephanie had freed herself from Ranger’s arms and pivoted back toward the doorway. 

To her surprise, Ranger’s sister Ariana emerged from the doorway. “I thought I heard your voices,” she enthused. “Welcome home!” As she spoke, she tossed heaping handfuls of confetti in the air. 

“Um, what?” Backing up, Stephanie refocused on Ranger. “You know, when I said that I knew you had the ability to break into Ellie’s place if you wanted, I thought I was making a joke.”

“Oh, he didn’t have to break in,” Ariana brightly piped up before Ranger had a chance to speak.

“About that, Babe,” he began, only to have Ariana interrupt him yet again.

“ _ ¡Dios mío! _ Carlos, you didn’t tell her, yet, did you?” The rubber soles of her boat shoes thwacked impressively as she strode over to Ranger. “You talked with her every night on the phone.” Ranger’s sister shook her head. “And today, you were together all the way from the airport.  _ Que  _ idiot.” Ariana slapped him upside his head. “I told you, don’t make this a surprise.” 

She then turned to Stephanie. “My brother doesn’t understand us women at all.”

With dawning comprehension, Stephanie blurted, “Oh! Ariana, it’s all good. We did talk about this a few nights ago.” Then she rolled her eyes. “Though not today. And you know, Ranger, I thought that your idea of renting, or maybe buying Ellie’s condo was one of a  _ few _ options, not that you were actually in the process of  _ doing  _ it.”

“I’m a man of action, Babe,” Ranger commented while nodding at his men Logan and Javi, who were each rolling boxes up to the door. 

“No kidding,” Stephanie snorted. Seeing Ariana’s speculative look, so similar to Ranger’s under her straight eyebrows, Stephanie explained, “Ranger’s used to approaching everything like a mission.”

Ranger shrugged. “Like I said, Steph, this lifestyle thing is a work in progress.” 

“I know,” she replied gently as she bumped her shoulder against him. 

Ariana snorted. “Just tell me he doesn’t see  _ you  _ as a mission.” 

“Maybe at first he did,” Stephanie giggled. She finger-waved at Logan and Javi as they hustled back to their vehicle for another load. Then she glanced upward through her lashes at Ranger. “Back when you started teaching me how to be a bounty hunter. Remember?”

“Couldn’t forget, Steph. You helped me to quickly realize the error of my approach.” 

“Good answer,” she nudged him again. 

Ranger simply nodded with a vaguely smug quirk of his lips. “Let’s go inside,” he said. “Ariana has been working her magic.”

“Flatterer.” Ranger’s sister smiled at her brother’s praise. Ushering Ranger and Stephanie ahead of her, she explained, “Your friend Ellie wanted to keep her furniture, so we arranged for storage until she gets back in town. Carlos told me, though, that you liked what she had. So, we found similar furnishings.”

Stephanie walked through the door while Ariana finished talking, and took a look around. “Wow,” she exclaimed. “Ariana, it’s like you ‘bippity-boppity-booed’ everything into colors and styles I would’ve bought.” She walked into the main room and released Ranger’s hand so she could turn slowly, in place, to see it all. “It’s really nice. How did you do this in one week?”

Ariana’s satisfied expression closely resembled Ranger’s, with the addition of a Cheshire cat smile. “It was a joint effort. After Carlos gave me the green light, I came over and got our cousin Ella on a video call for some ideas, put together my list, and called in some favors with my usual vendors. And I got a couple pieces from the wholesaler Carlos buys from.”

At Stephanie’s questioning look, he explained, “Safe house furniture gets trashed and needs to be replaced more often than you’d imagine.” 

“Ah,” she replied, swiftly banishing her half-formed image of Ranger as a clandestine interior designer. She turned toward the bedroom for a peek. “Oh my gosh, you found a Wonder Woman night table lamp. It’s like the one I asked Santa for in fifth grade.” She spun back to Ranger and his sister, actually speechless. 

“Ella,” they answered in tandem, followed by Ariana’s laughter and Ranger’s self-satisfied smirk. 

Before Stephanie could figure out what to say, Logan and Javi returned to the condo. Javi rolled his half-empty moving cart to the far living room wall, where the previous load of boxes formed a low embankment. Logan stopped his cart in front of Stephanie and murmured, “Excuse me, ma’am. I mean Stephanie. Are these bed and bath items? If so, I’ll put them in those rooms.” 

Looking down, she saw he had her suitcases plus the boxes labeled  _ BeddyBye _ ,  _ Shoes Shoes Baby _ , and  _ The Taming of the Hairdo _ . “Wow, yes,” she replied, beaming at Logan. Clearly Ranger had brought the A-Team today. So much for Valerie’s fussing that she should have used so-called “normal” labels to avoid delivery and unpacking mayhem. Seriously, though, Stephanie didn’t have that many boxes; any mis-labeling would end up as a humorous mixup, not catastrophe. 

“So Stephanie,” Ariana stepped toward her, resting her arm around her waist. “If everything looks okay, I actually need to head out. I left my number on your fridge in case you forgot it, and you can call at any time.” She winked, “And don’t forget to tell me whenever you’re ready to come join me on my mission to pamper the rich and famous. Like I said on the phone: the job is wacky and unpredictable, the customers are a trip, and the money is good. What more could a gal want?”

“I’ll call, I promise,” Stephanie chuckled while Ariana wrapped her in a cheek-smooching hug. 

“I’m holding you to that,” Ranger’s sister replied. Walking over to the coffee table, she gathered a leopard spotted sweater and matching purse. She then zeroed in on Ranger, enveloping her slightly stiff brother in an enthusiastic embrace. A brief flurry of Spanish followed, volleyed back in the same language. As Ariana responded, Stephanie thought Ranger was actually on the verge of rolling his eyes. 

_ Note to self, remember to find a Spanish class,  _ Stephanie reminded herself.

Finally, with a quick kiss to her brother’s cheek, Ariana concluded, “ _ Y no olvides decir lo que sientes, hermano mío _ .” Inhaling as she pulled back, she tapped her brother on the shoulder. In a gentler voice, she added, “So, be good,” she finished with a soft smile. 

“Always,” Ranger drawled, his head tilted quiet amusement. 

Then, with a quick wave and a final farewell, Ariana slipped out the front door. 

Sensing their moment, Logan and Javi approached Ranger. “We tested the alarm and hung the drapes earlier, and brought everything from the truck just now. Need anything else done?” Logan glanced between Ranger and Stephanie. 

“Steph?” Ranger glanced her way. “Are you all set?”

“Gosh, sure,” she answered. “Thanks, guys.” Javi, the silent one, gifted Stephanie with a blinding smile. The gold tooth in front added to the smile’s bling, but it was the genuine pleasure in his eyes that Stephanie saw. Murmuring, Logan nodded and acknowledged her thanks, as well.

Ranger shifted and the men both stood at attention. He nodded, “Then we’re all set. See you next week.” 

The men nodded. And then both Logan and Javi grabbed their moving carts, said their final goodbyes, and rolled outside. Illumination from outdoor door and pathway lamps countered the early evening’s darkened sky. Meanwhile, the New Year’s Eve party in the next unit was obviously picking up steam, with laughter and a dance tune audible in the distance. 

After the door closed, Stephanie looked around again. “Wow,” she exhaled, momentarily overwhelmed. How had Ariana figured out that she wanted a café table instead of Ellie’s big dining table? How had she known that Stephanie thought the TV should be on the inside wall, not the one where Ellie had put hers? 

“You like it?” Ranger asked in a matter-of-fact tone, as though he were asking her opinion on a pair of shoes. Or, in his case, probably a dinner salad. 

“I love it. But it’s a bit of a surprise.” She sat down on the sofa and thought for a moment, nibbling her lip. “What would you have done if I  _ didn’t _ like it?” She swallowed. “What if I’d said I wanted to live somewhere else? You and Ariana have done all this work.” She gestured vaguely around her.

Ranger came over and sat on the coffee table in front of her. Reaching for one of her hands, he answered, “Then I’d help you find another place that you liked.” He glanced away briefly, then gazed directly back into her eyes. “You said you liked it here and were comfortable, so that was my main consideration. You don’t have to stay here, if you don’t want.”

“Oh, I want.” Seeing his eyes darkening, she had to fight the urge to fall under their spell. At least for a little while longer. “I did the math. If Ariana pays what she says, I can cover the rent that Ellie said she might ask, though I won’t have much left over. Probably, though, I could get some hours at the Grouper Inn. The owner said he’d hire me if I came back.” And, she mused, she’d also get at least one free dinner a week, that way. She’d be totally on board with a fried grouper sandwich, mayonnaise-enhanced tartar sauce, fries, and slaw at least once a week.

Once again, though, Ranger had that almost hesitant look on his face. “Stephanie, the amount you pay in rent is up to you.” Probably sensing the “huh, what?” that was about to blurt from her lips, he continued speaking. “Your friend Ellie really wanted to sell this place. So, my lawyer made an immediate cash offer above what she was asking.” He shrugged. “You really don’t have to worry about rent. It’s yours Babe, if you want to live here.”

It took her a moment to absorb what he’d said. While his fingers laced into hers, Stephanie’s thoughts brushed along the sometimes hazy edges of her experiences with living arrangements and relationships. And what that all might mean when applied to the man in front of her. 

Here he sat: a multi-talented, world-traveled man who apparently had resources beyond what she could readily imagine. Meanwhile, she was a Jersey girl who’d been scraping by, day-to-day, on irregular paydays and wits the entire time she’d known him. Along with Ranger’s paychecks, vehicles, and armed bailouts from skip pursuits gone awry. 

Well, she’d already decided that she wanted a better, more balanced relationship with him, going forward. 

Blinking, she said, “Ranger, if we’re going to try this dating thing, I’m not sure I can have you as my landlord. I know you have the resources to afford it, but it feels weird.” 

“Understood,” he said with a nod. “If it helps to know, I bought this apartment to be part of the trust I have set up for Julie.” A small, far away smile softened his lips. “You liked this condo so much, and it’s a safe, friendly neighborhood. I thought perhaps Julie might want to live here after she grows up.” With a half shrug, he added, “Any rent that gets paid until then, whether by you or anyone else, goes into that trust.” 

“Oh,” she exhaled, imagining Julie’s delight at having such a nice place all to herself. Near her family, but all her own. “Oh,” she repeated, seeing Ranger’s gesture through his perspective. He might claim to still be figuring out relationships, but he was a lifelong expert at taking care of the people who needed him. 

She leaned forward, caressing his face with her free hand. “That’s so thoughtful. And, I do like it here, so I’ll be totally okay paying rent to support Julie.” She smiled, adding, “But, how about we negotiate the amount of rent some other time?” 

“Works for me,” he replied, shifting slightly so that first his exhale, and then his full, warm lips tickled against her palm. Her breath caught as his touch vibrated through her skin, from her palm to her heart, and from there igniting through her body as though a fuse had been lit in her veins. 

Catching her gaze, he added, “There are better things to do with our time, this evening.” He pulled her hand from his face and, with an efficient, graceful shift, moved to sit beside her on the couch. “Better things, like this,” he said, voice husky and dark. And then he gathered her into his arms, covering her lips with his.

And here was more proof that Ranger never lied, because this was definitely a better thing to do with their time. Now. Tonight. Or whenever.

She felt his lips quirk into a smile as she leaned further into the kiss. She shivered at the spark lit by his touch. And at the liquid fire of his tongue as it slipped ever so slowly along hers, cajoling her to join it. As one of his large hands began teasing her hair away from her face, the other pulled her closer to him. 

“Mmm,” she exhaled while reciprocating his touch. Her own hands circled his shoulders. Without conscious thought, she twisted into him. Her far leg reached over his legs, claiming his thighs. It was only right, since he had already managed to completely claim her breath, her lips, and her desire. 

He broke off their kiss, briefly, for a breath. Then without a pause he dipped down to again plumb her lips with his sensuous, expressive mouth. His faint five-o-clock shadow brushed her cheek while his fingers slipped under her blouse, trailing ribbons of smooth heat along her eager skin. 

She moved briefly, chafing her elbow against the sofa’s upholstery as she discovered that her arm was now caught under his. She attempted to free herself, bending her arm and twisting, but only managed to wedge her fist in Ranger’s armpit. 

Aware of his surroundings as always, Ranger murmured, “Let’s take this someplace more comfortable.” 

With that, he stood, pulling her up with him and into his arms. Through their clothing, she could feel the fullness of his body— his muscular chest, the strength of his legs, the hardness of his desire straining toward her. His arms framed her body, holding her head steady for another long, glorious kiss, while his other hand tickled deliciously along her waist. 

Squirming slightly only brought her closer to him— a perfectly desirable outcome, she acknowledged with the ever-decreasing portion of her brain that was still online. Meanwhile, her own hands caressed from his waist to his hips, reminding herself of the pleasure of the flesh underneath his chinos. 

Going further, her hands cupped his rear end, feeling the muscles underneath tensing and shifting at her touch. With a low moan, she pulled him toward her, pushing her pelvis against his now even-firmer length. 

She felt herself melting with pleasure at his sudden gasp of breath, not to mention the twitch that bucked him even further toward her. 

Breath rough, he began nibbling along the shell of her ear, “As I recall, your bedroom is that way,” he nudged with his chin, also using his hands to hint in that same direction. 

“Such a good memory,” she sighed, while shivering to the feeling of his lips beginning to butterfly down her throat. 

“I always remember what’s important,” he murmured against her heated skin before he continued his kisses. 

And then the breathy, murmuring quiet of the room was interrupted by a loud burbling growl. 

Ranger paused his lips. Stephanie blinked. And then she cursed her fate because, of course, her traitorous stomach had chosen exactly that moment to let out a fierce, rolling grumble. Ranger began to laugh, the sound swelling in counterpoint to her stomach’s complaint. His shoulders actually shook with amusement while she attempted to hide her blushing face against his shirt. “So not fair,” she mumbled into the cloth. 

At which point her stomach growled again, this time even louder.

“And there’s my cue,” Ranger said, kissing the top of her head as he relaxed his hold on her. “Must be time for that New Year’s Eve dinner I promised you.” 

“But, but..,” she protested, arching her neck  back until she caught his still smoldering eyes. Before she could formulate what she was trying to say, her traitorous stomach again contributed its own emphatic commentary. 

“Come on,” he murmured, lightly jostling her arm. “Let’s go feed the beast. After all, I intend to wear you out tonight.” 

_ Oh my.  _ A renewed pulse of warmth raced  through her body, teasing her core with her own desire. And yet she knew he was right; she really did need to eat. And besides— she felt her own lips lift in a smile— he’d actually promised that he was taking her on a date tonight. At a nice restaurant. 

She reached up to touch her sensitive, well-kissed lips against his. Feeling daring, she replied, “Only if we can come back afterward and return to where we left off.” 

“No problem, Babe,” he returned her kiss. Hands on her shoulders, he pulled away so they were no longer pressed against each other. Then, he smirked, a hundred percent pure Ranger Mañoso. “I even have a key, so we won’t have to break in when we get back. I’m told this makes it more of a real date.”

Stephanie snorted. Then she smiled; she was going to find out what it was like to have a real date with Ranger. Something new. 

_ To be continued… _

* * *

_ Note: _ In my mind, songs in this chapter are the lush, old fashioned Ella Fitzgerald versions, though any version will do. 


	12. This Will Be Our Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story disclaimers and background can be found at the start of Chapter 1.

**Chapter 12: This Will Be Our Year**

Ranger opened the car door and paused, holding out his arm to help her exit. And for about the hundredth time in the past hour, her breath stopped as she gazed at him. 

Oh, she’d known Ranger for a few years and was used to his drop-dead, lethal handsomeness. But she wasn’t quite used to having said handsomeness doting on her. Which led to her, yet again, discreetly poking herself just to make sure this all was real. And, boy, she was going to have a hard time explaining the map of teeny bruises she was probably developing as a result. 

“Babe?” he said, bringing her attention back to the moment. And, yes, back to his toned, muscular form that so nicely filled out his fitted, charcoal gray suit. Yum! And how had she not noticed his garment bag— yup, black— hanging on the coat hooks by the front door the whole time they’d been in the condo this afternoon? Or his kit bag— yup, black— on the bathroom counter when she’d taken a momentary bio break? 

Oh yeah; she’d been distracted by the man, himself. Thoroughly, dizzyingly, down-to-her-toes distracted. Just like right now, she had to admit as her eyes traveled up to his amused gaze. 

“Just admiring the scenery,” she confessed with a pixie grin that was quickly met with Ranger’s satisfied expression. 

As his gaze detoured along her seated form, she realized that it had been a long time since she’d gotten out of a car in a short dress and heels. At least, when a man was watching. A man whose opinion mattered. A man whose every gesture was as agile as it was efficient. 

Of course, since this particular man was always ready for anything, probably he’d be as appreciative of a graceful exit as he would if she simply cannonballed out of his vehicle, purse straps hooking the unfastened seat belt and dumping its belongings behind her. Which may have happened exactly like that at some point when heading to a dinner with Dickie Orr’s boss. Maybe. 

Ranger, though, would simply make sure she was okay, pick the pebbles and crushed shells out of her hair with a sly remark or two, and then carry on as usual. It was good to know she had another option in case her elegant “getting out of the car maneuver” didn’t quite go as planned. 

With a Miss America smile, she shifted her weight, swiveled to the door as she’d learned so long ago, with her hands loosely marshalling her skirt to follow her legs. Then she stepped one foot out of the car door, toe first, followed by the other. Grasping Ranger’s hand, she stood as though there had never been any doubt. 

Ranger closed the door behind her and then, as her first few steps wobbled slightly on the uneven pavement, put his arm gently at her back and took her near hand with his far one. Walking suddenly became easier. And, okay, maybe the strappy heels she’d chosen weren’t ideal for the shell and gravel surface of the parking lot, but they looked perfect with her dress. So they were still the right choice.

Especially since they had encouraged Ranger to walk snugly beside her in the intimate half-light of the early evening under the emerging stars. It was a Hallmark moment. The ocean lapped the beach on the far side of the restaurant to which they were headed. Overlaying that peaceful rhythm, muffled sounds of live music emanated from the restaurant. 

As they turned down the path to the restaurant's entrance, she heard snatches of conversation and a stereo from the bar on the other side of the easement of palmettos and shrubs. She couldn’t help but peek in that direction with an intake of breath. 

“Ranger, do you remember?” She gazed at him. “It was just a week ago. I was sitting over there,” she pointed across his body with her free hand toward the half-obscured bar. “I thought I saw you walking on this path to your car. I thought it couldn’t be, but then you tracked me down the next day. It turned out that it _was_ you, after all.”

He nodded in affirmation, his arm tightening around her. “I thought I’d spotted you while I was still inside, finishing dinner.” His mouth lifted in a secretive smile. “Then, when I got outside, I heard you laugh. I had no doubt, then, that it was you.” His hand tapped her waist, where he held her. “And, once again, you’d handed me a mystery to solve.”

“Me? I’m the opposite of a mystery,” she objected with a snort. “You’re the ‘Man of Mystery’,” she said with one-handed finger quotes. “I’m just a Jersey girl making it work in a crazy world.” 

“Stephanie, you have no idea,” he finally said as they reached the restaurant door. Releasing her, he fingered a stray curl of hair that had drifted toward her cheek. “You’re a mystery that never disappoints.” His eyes caught hers, his pupils were dark pools that she could dive into. Darker and yet so much warmer than the night. “You don’t even know how rare you are,” he murmured.

She couldn’t take her eyes from his, so close, just like his full lips. She shivered, though with a shawl over her shoulders she wasn’t the least bit cold. 

But then, the restaurant door opened next to them, and a group of laughing, chatting twenty-somethings came outside, bringing the sounds of voices and music with them. And also releasing the delicious aroma of roasted and baked food. Stephanie inhaled; there was no mistaking the delicate perfume of vanilla, sugar, pastry, and the deeper note to chocolate. Dessert was assured. 

So of course, even over all of that sound, Stephanie’s stomach rumble was unmistakable. She couldn’t help the blush that rose to her cheeks as Ranger replied with an amused quirk of his lips.

“After you,” he said, keeping the door open while motioning her inside. 

Walking in, she scanned the restaurant’s foyer. Above the currently vacant hostess desk, New Year banners and balloons festooned the amber-lit walls, joining garlands of holiday lights and pinned-up ornaments. The whole festive motif wove around the regular wall decorations, including artful collages of antique cutlery, the usual photos of famous visitors to the restaurant, ending in a large wood and gilt framed mirror off to the side.

Curious, she turned toward the mirror, which was old and spidered with delicate age crackles. It reminded her of Aunt Tootsie’s entryway cabinet and matching mirror, which showcased her collection of fussy old clocks. 

This mirror, though, gave her a view of herself, with Ranger standing attentively behind her. They looked like a couple from a magazine. Ranger in a suit always looked worthy of his own photo shoot in GQ magazine. Drool-worthy, in fact. This time, though, she saw her own appearance as a match to his impeccable bearing and it took her breath away. 

She’d pinned her hair into an updo using a combination of clips and combs that looked intentional, as did the several corkscrews of hair that cascaded down alongside her face. Her crystal drop earrings— a birthday gift from her Grandma Mazur— dangled like fairy lights amidst her curls. They highlighted the elegant simplicity of her dress. It was black, a slim sheath with a generous neckline and a slightly cinched waist. Basically, it was the perfect dress, made even more perfect by having been on the Macy’s sale rack during her shopping trip last week with Mary Lou. 

She reached up to adjust the shawl that was starting to slip from her shoulders, when her charm bracelet— Ranger’s Christmas gift— reflected in burnished gold in the foyer lighting. Who was this elegant woman who looked like Stephanie Plum? 

“It’s not an illusion, Steph,” he spoke, his breath tickling her hair against her ear. “This is what I see whenever you’re around,” he added. She felt warmth spread from her center outward as she remembered him standing behind her, just like this, back at the condo as he’d helped her zip up the back of her dress. (“I’ll help you, Babe, just so I can unzip you later.”) And that was yet another reason why this was the perfect dress. 

She began fanning herself, murmuring about how obviously she hadn’t yet reacclimated to the relative warmth of Miami winters. Ranger’s smug expression in the mirror was a big clue that he wasn’t buying her excuse.

At that moment, a slim, dark woman approached the hostess station, moving like liquid femininity. Ranger stepped over, his low voice obscured by music that had picked up from the room on her left. Given her relationship history, Stephanie had to fight an almost overwhelming urge to storm over to Ranger and wrap her arm around his waist like a curly-haired boa constrictor, ensuring that both he and the obviously impressed hostess knew that he was with her. With Stephanie Plum: no other. 

Taking a deep breath, she knew she had to trust Ranger. He was drop-dead handsome, he was a magnet for beautiful women— well really, for any woman with a pulse— and if she couldn’t trust him there was no way a relationship between them would work. And she believed that she could put her faith in him; a feeling that was reinforced when he paused for a lingering glance her way, half turned away from the counter. 

And, holy cow, was that a wink? Okay, probably it was a trick of the blinking garland lights. And, probably he was making sure she hadn’t bolted or been abducted by monkey grinders. Nevertheless, it showed that he was aware of her, that he thought of her even when talking with another woman. This was something she could get used to, though it might take a little time for her to adjust.

Making a commitment to remain in place as a token of her trust, she figured it was still okay to take a few steps to peek through the swinging doors from where a live band was playing. Her eyes were drawn to a quartet on a small stage: a singer, pianist, bass guitarist, and maybe a violinist, all decked out in ’30s style outfits. The music was danceable, though she swore they were playing a pop song, simply slower and more melodically than usual. And, not as loudly as she’d expect if they were in New Jersey. 

A few couples were dancing on the central area of the floor, which had been cleared of tables. One couple was at least as old as her parents; the others were closer to her age. They weren’t going to win any dance competitions, but they looked like they were having fun. A couple of “Happy New Year’s” hats were visible, along with sashes and beaded necklaces with the year on them. She glanced at Ranger, wondering if he’d mind trying a dance or two after dinner. She definitely wouldn’t mention hats or other festive wear. 

“Of course, Mr. Manoso,” the hostess spoke in the relative quiet. “Your table is ready in the back room with a view of the beach, just as you requested. Just follow me.” She gathered a set of leather-bound menus while Ranger turned toward Stephanie, his arm extended. 

“You ready?” he asked, his baritone voice like a feather moving slowly along the small hairs of her arms.

_So ready…._

“Oh yeah,” she answered, closing the gap between them to place her hand in his larger palm. 

“Let’s go,” he said with a nod to the hostess. With a glance over her shoulder, the woman made sure they were following before swaying down a hallway that Stephanie hadn’t spotted before. They continued through one room, with Ranger darting subtle glances in a scanning pattern that she recognized. Then they turned into another, more intimate room with large windows, all facing the waterfront. 

“Wow,” Stephanie breathed. The room must be right up against the beach. Though it was now fully nighttime, she could see the crescent moon and the early stars reflected on the lapping water beyond the shoreline. She could hear the quiet plashing of wavelets through one partly open window, even over the sounds of diners in the next room. 

They walked past three tables, stopping at the fourth at the far end of the room. “Here you are Mr. Manoso,” the hostess said as she put down their menus, one per place setting. “Ellis, here, will be your waiter tonight. I hope you enjoy your dinner.”

Before the hostess finished speaking, the waiter had already approached the table. A slim man in a vest, with curly brown hair and a close-clipped beard, the waiter greeted them. “Sir. Ma’am,” he murmured as he ushered them through the ritual of seating, water pouring, napkin fluffing, and specials of the day. When they got to the question of cocktails before dinner, Stephanie knew that her stomach had again registered its opinion when Ranger hastened to order an extra-large appetizer platter along with a large bottle of sparkling water as a starter. 

“Thank you,” Stephanie said, taking a sip of water. “You know what I want, even without asking.” 

“I’ve seen you have appetizers instead of a meal, so I know that’s acceptable in the Stephanie Plum food pyramid,” he said with a wry twist to his eyebrow. “I’ve also seen you have drinks on an empty stomach.” 

“So, what you’re saying is that I’m an easy date?” She peeked at him over the rim of her water glass before putting it down. 

“Far from it,” he replied, gazing directly into her eyes. “I assure you, Stephanie, you’re as charmingly and unpredictably complex when inebriated as when sober.” His eyebrow canted upward as he added, “You do, though, tend to fall asleep a lot faster without food. I figure the chances of you enjoying dinner tonight improve substantially with the addition of appetizers.” 

While she laughed, Ellis the waiter set a pair of goblets on the table. With a twirl of the wrist and flourish of towel as though it were a fine beverage, he filled each glass with sparkling water. He then placed the bottle on the table, with an announcement that their appetizers were on their way.

After thanking the man, Ranger picked up his goblet and held it toward her. “To you, Babe. And the start of your new year,” he toasted. His eyes were dark in the restaurant’s intimate lighting. His amused lips were relaxed, inviting. The music from the main dining room was sweet and slow. 

She raised her own glass. “Thank you,” she replied, and then she inhaled away the almost shy feeling that tickled inside her, knowing how much this capable and always so very _busy_ man had contributed to the start of her new adventure. With a smile she offered her own toast. “And to you, Ranger, and all of your help.” she replied. 

He saluted his glass toward hers without touching, exactly the way that _Vogue_ article last holiday season had asserted was uber-classy. Since Ranger was a hands-down manly man with two guns and a knife— because, yes, of course she’d noticed the gun holster under his jacket and the slightly pouched drape at the small of his back and also the base of his ankle— she was sure that didn’t read _Vogue_ for classy dating tips. All of which meant that she now had proof that the article had been spot on. She couldn’t wait to tell Mary Lou. 

“Glad to help. Any time,” he murmured, dispelling her distracted thoughts as he touched his goblet to his lips. After a brief sip, he added, “It means a lot to me that you chose to be here. Both tonight and in general.” His eyes followed his hand as he put his water down on the table. He looked about to say something else when Ellis the waiter appeared with their appetizer platter, two plates, and special fork for each of them. 

“Are you ready to order?” he asked, and then smiled gently when Ranger signaled that they weren’t. “Take as long as you want. I’ll check back in a bit.” Ranger nodded, freeing the waiter to his other duties. 

Meanwhile, she picked a few likely, yummy looking pieces from the appetizer platter, gathering them back to her own plate. And then, the first delicious bite of bacon-wrapped scallop burst against her taste buds. Followed by, moments later, a nibble of buffalo wing dipped in spicy sauce that sent her entire mouth into happy fireworks. She couldn’t help but moan out loud. “These are good,” she elaborated, cheeks rounded like a chipmunk as she readied herself for another bite. 

“I could tell,” he said with genuine pleasure infusing his voice. Then, he gestured to her menu. “Don’t forget, there’s more.” 

“You’re spoiling me,” she pretended to object while reaching for the menu. Scanning it, she thought she heard something like “that’s the general idea” mumbled under Ranger’s breath while she focused on scanning the menu. And, oh, there were several things she wanted. But wait… “Ranger, there aren’t any prices,” she frowned, blinking once to make sure she hadn’t somehow missed them. “This is a fancy-shmancy place,” she marveled, lowering the menu to look at him. 

“No price, Babe,” he smirked, and then effortlessly caught her tossed napkin mid-air. Handing it back to her, his expression now more serious, he explained, “I wanted to bring you someplace nice tonight” A brief smile played across his lips as his eyes caught hers. “The first time I was here, I thought of you. Even before I knew you were about a hundred yards away from where I was sitting.”

“Well, it is nice. Priceless, even.” she snickered at her own joke, seeing the gleam of humor in his eyes as well. 

He reached across the table, lifting her fingers in his. Gazing at them rather than at her face, he said, “I’m a bit rusty at this dating part of my new lifestyle.” His lips twitched. “According to my sisters, dates are more than hookups, which I already knew. But apparently dates are not nearly as similar to business meetings as I had imagined.” At Stephanie’s snort, he added, “My sisters have been coaching me. Or, to be honest, setting me up on a series of less than satisfying dates with their sorority sisters and acquaintances.”

“Like when you were here last week?” 

“Exactly,” he agreed, eyebrows shrugging. “As a benefit, I know the nice restaurants in the Miami area, now. Beyond just those that are Cuban, that is.” As though aware of what he’d just said, the band in the main room was now playing something with a decided Latin rhythm, though it was still a slow, danceable tune. 

Stephanie turned her hand to wrap his palm. “I don’t need nice restaurants, Ranger. Though I totally appreciate coming here tonight,” she added in case he had any doubts. “But the fact that you made plans to be with me tonight is already special. That you chose someplace nice is above and beyond, like spun-sugar rosettes on the perfect cake.” 

While she spoke, her brows furrowed as she tried to remember the last time she’d been on a date at a restaurant. One that wasn’t “let’s meet the guys at Pinos,” or “we’ll get a nice dinner at the wedding reception.” Or even, “have dinner with me, since it’s after hours.” 

All of which she appreciated, but they weren’t exactly write-in-your-diary date moments. Was her last, real date actually with Dickie Orr? She blinked a few times as though batting loose memories that had gone into hiding. 

Ranger squeezed her hand, then released it to smooth his thumb along her knuckles. Oh, and who knew that knuckles could feel so sexy, all the way from her hands to… well, everywhere? 

Of course Ranger knew because he was seduction distilled into male form. 

“Steph,” his low and earnest voice snared her attention. “You should, by all means, expect to be taken on dates and be treated as the special person you are. I should have taken you on an actual date long ago. So, I wanted to make sure to take you out tonight, instead of just staying in at your place, tempting though that was.” 

Thinking back, between his passion and her enthusiasm, she’d been surprised they’d managed to leave the condo for dinner. But now she understood why.

He’d paused momentarily, looking briefly into the distance, out the dining room’s window toward the beach, before rendering himself again to her gaze. “I should have asked you to call me ‘Carlos’ long before now, too. It would be my pleasure if you would.” 

The very air seemed to glimmer around them as he finished speaking, though maybe it was just the prickle of moisture that was suddenly dampening her lashes. 

When he seemed at loss for what to say next, she leaned forward. “Carlos,” she said, his name melting in her mouth like a caramel covered chocolate truffle. “Thank you. I know that’s a name you only give to people who you’re close to, so it’s a gift.” In fact, it was the most precious gift he’d ever given her. That he’d bought the condo she liked was amazing, but he’d always bought or given her things before. This time, though, he’d said he wanted to try being in a real relationship. They were together on a date. And, he’d just given her the name that only his closest intimates used. After all these years. He was _serious_ about this. 

She resisted the urge to leap over the table and give him a hug. Her reticence was mostly because she suspected he’d find it too effusive, but also because she’d probably knock over the table and land them both on the floor amidst silverware and broken plates. 

She’d make sure she had plenty of time to hug him later. 

His deep brown eyes continued to watch her as though there was nothing else in the room. She squeezed his hand. “And, once again, you were right. Tonight is the perfect time for a first date. And so far, it is the perfect date.” 

“I’m glad,” he replied, his simple words belying the deep emotions she could tell were enmeshed just behind his composed expression. 

“Me, too,” she replied as the hovering waiter appeared in her periphery. 

Ranger apparently saw the man as well, since he leaned back, gently releasing her hand, and beckoned him over. Since Stephanie had figured out what she wanted— and hey, no price!— they both ordered. Ranger also requested a bottle of wine, at which point she renewed her amazement that he could select a wine by name, not by color or box size. 

As the waiter nodded and stepped away, the music in the main dining room had changed, again. Now it had a country feel and a woman was singing something like “welcome to the future.” Stephanie found herself swaying to the song. 

“Do you think we could dance after dinner, Carlos?” she asked, still savoring his name on her tongue. Like she’d savor all of him with her tongue. For hours. The same he worshiped her. _Oh my_ , she began fanning herself

“Of course,” he replied smoothly, politely ignoring the sudden raging blush that had completely overtaken her cheeks. As she squirmed in her chair, his ever-curious eyebrow rose in question. full lips quirked. 

“Everything all right there, Babe?” 

“Oh yeah, just fine,” she smiled brightly. And really, she was telling the truth. Mostly. And, thank heavens she was bailed out by Ellis the waiter, who chose that moment to arrive with the wine. While Stephanie took a moment to finish the appetizers on her plate, which actually was all of the appetizers remaining on the table at large, Ellis and Ranger did the whole ceremony of the wine cork and the first taste. 

As the wine passed with flying colors, Ellis half-filled their wine glasses with the same classy twist-of-his-wrist maneuver he’d used for their water. At the same time, a similarly dressed, younger man slid beside Ellis to clear the appetizer accoutrements from the table and place wide salad bowls on top of their dinner plates. And then, when both men stepped away, both Stephanie and Ranger began to eat.

They took their time progressing through the three courses of the meal, with audible delight from Stephanie and measured nods of approval from Ranger. But, as Stephanie shared some of how she’d spent her last few days, it seemed like hardly any time had passed before they were almost through with the main course. 

She was surprised there was so much to relate that she hadn’t managed to cover during their night-time phone conversations. For example, there was yesterday’s trip to the zoo with her nieces, when Mary Alice had announced that maybe she was a zebra rather than a horse. Important decisions like that might take time to decide, she informed Ranger who apparently didn’t know about these things. He did agree with her, though, that it was a relief to avoid experiencing what might be months of her niece’s back-and-forth equine experimentation in person.

And then, well, she hadn’t wanted to mention it over the phone, but there was the almost ceremonial trip she’d taken with Grandma Mazur for a viewing at Last Journey funeral home in Ewing. It was a good thing her cousin Shirley-the-Whiner was there with her husband Eddie Gazzara— as she explained to Ranger, whose expression indicated that maybe he’d swallowed one of the lemons from his snapper— since Eddie had managed to keep all of their names off the police report. 

While chatting, she’d also managed to find out how the giant SUV he’d used to pick her up from the airport had turned into the svelte Porsche 911 in which they’d driven to the restaurant. Instead of involving bippity-boppity-boo of pumpkins changing to carriages, the car swap apparently involved a couple of Miami Rangemen. And, though most Rangemen were like magic themselves, this time they’d simply driven to her condo and switched out cars in the short time before she and Ranger had left for dinner. 

By the time they got the dessert, Stephanie’s non-dessert stomach was pleasantly full. Fortunately there was room for the slice of Four Layer Chocolate Buttercream cake that she’d ordered as her dessert. It was a thin slice, but as she laced her fork through the frosting and then brought each bite to her lips she couldn’t help humming deeply in appreciation. She spotted the couple who had been seated at the other end of their dining annex peek her way. She smiled, certain that they’d be doing the same thing by the time they got to the dessert course. 

In fact, even Ranger had a languorous, half-lidded look as he brought measured spoonfuls of _flan_ to his lips. 

“You were so right,” she said between bites. “This is a great restaurant. Even you like the dessert.”

“ _Flan_ ,” he answered as though a single word explained it all. Probably noticing that she’d actually halted, fork in the air, while she pondered his answer, he elaborated. “I like the desserts I grew up with, like _flan_ , _turrones,_ and _brazo gitano_ cake _._ I eat them a few times a year during holidays.” He angled his spoon down for another dollop of _flan_. 

“Ah,” Stephanie said, finally bringing her forkful of cake to her mouth. While savoring it, she wondered what it would be like to have a dessert only a few times a year. Would each one taste any better? Inspecting the cake on her fork she found that hard to imagine. If so, she’d probably pass out after the first bite, so all that waiting would be wasted. But then, Ranger was different; he was feeding his temple, not his sugar and fat hormones. Reaching for her final bite, she blinked, noticing that Ranger had actually finished before her. 

Then, finally done, she reached for her water to swish her mouth, having learned all about chocolate cake teeth in her middle school cafeteria. As Ranger watched, she leaned back in her chair, content like a cat basking in the sun. “And it’s still the perfect date,” she said.

A rare Ranger smile lit his handsome face, mixing pleasure and pride in a headying combination. “Your happiness is my goal,” he replied. In anyone else, that might have seemed like a cheesy comment and she almost said that aloud. She could see, though, the commitment in his eyes as well as the effort he’d taken tonight. This had really mattered to him.

“Then I guess we should have more dates,” she replied. “But, like I said before, I’m happy because we’re here together.” As she spoke, the band started a new song in the far dining room; without realizing it, she’d begun swaying in place.

With a satisfied look, he set his napkin on the table. “Would you like to join me for a dance?” His eyebrow rose in a speculative arc, as though he really was trying to figure out this whole dating thing. Which Stephanie didn’t really believe, though his modesty about it was charming. 

After a beat, he amended, “Or, would you prefer coffee first, or maybe tea?” 

“Oh, gosh, let’s dance,” she replied, her own napkin landing on the table in a flourish. Dancing together was something new, something they’d never done in the times they’d known each other. And, honestly, something she’d fantasized about for a while. 

He stood, held out his hand for her, and then turned to escort her to the dance floor. The gentle touch of his fingers along her back as they began walking tingled, and yet grounded her. The deep thrum she felt at being next to him as they walked was practically enough to make her start fanning herself again. Good thing she’d left her shawl draped over her chair, because she didn’t need any extra heat.

They passed by the other couple in their annex, who were now finishing their dinner course, so Stephanie felt virtuous at leaving them alone for the exquisite shared delight of dessert. They trailed through the rest of the hallway, passing through the smaller dining room on the way, and then reached the main dining-and-dancing room with its parquet floor and small stage. 

The tables ringing the floor were only half full, as their occupants were dancing with one another. 

On stage, the flapper-dressed singer was swaying to the beat as well, while the other musicians played the intro to the next smooth yet upbeat melody. Ranger led them to the dance floor and then turned to frame her in his arms. There was plenty of room around them; probably the slower music of the past quarter hour or so had calmed the dancing and persuaded more energetic partiers to sit down for a while. 

"Oh, I recognize this song,” Stephanie enthused as she began following Ranger’s steps. 

“ _The warmth of your love, like the warmth of the sun,_ ” the singer’s honeyed voice infused seamlessly into the melody. “ _This will be our year, took a long time to come_.” 

Stephanie felt the pleasure of letting her body follow the melody while also following Ranger’s movements. They were all aligned in the quiet joy of a shared, happy moment. She looked up, seeing a quizzical tilt to Ranger’s lips. “What?” she asked, leaning into him as they moved slowly to the melody.

“This only happens when you’re around. Not with anyone else.”

Her eyebrows pulled together in puzzlement. Meanwhile the singer’s voice deepened into the refrain. “ _I won't forget the way you held me up when I was down…_.” she sang, gazing wistfully over the dancefloor and into the distance. 

As she continued singing, Ranger reached his hand up, lightly soothing Stephanie’s worried brow. Still gazing into her eyes, he brushed those same fingertips over to ruffle a couple of the corkscrew curls along the side of her face. “When you’re around, songs start playing that match the moment. That really never happens otherwise.”

“You just need to listen,” she leaned into his trailing fingers. “I’ll help you with that,” she smiled, half leaning into shoulder with a sigh. “It’s like how you help me pay attention to my surroundings. You’re looking for bad guys with guns, for safety’s sake. I’m looking for birthday cake and happy songs and great shoes, for happiness’ sake. It’s like the two sides of the same coin thingy.” 

His quiet laughter rumbled from his chest into her body. They had managed to slowly dance into an area of the floor that was mostly empty when he lifted her chin with his fingers. Leaning down, he touched his lips to hers, pressing them into a slow, full kiss with intensity that seemed to convey the passion of words he had saved up until now. His fingers moved to cup her cheek while his tongue teased against her lips. 

His kiss was filled with sensuality and promise. And it was good that she was in his arms since his lips, combined with the tingle his fingers left along her skin and the press of his warm, strong body left her weak-kneed and ready to surrender.

But instead of surrendering, she reached up to pull him closer while her tongue joined his, dancing together while their feet stayed in place. Pressing even closer to him, she was once again glad she’d worn her new heels tonight because she didn’t even need to reach for his lips. And, his fingers running along the generous neckline of her dress once again confirmed that it was truly the perfect dress. Or it was truly the perfect night and she was wearing a dress. And shoes. Or something…. 

She finally broke for air, a bit glassy eyed. Her tongue darted along her own lips as though rehearsing a memory. Then, before she knew what she was saying, she blurted, “Wow, _flan_ really is delicious.” 

This time he actually laughed out loud. “You never disappoint.” 

She chuckled along with him, stepping slightly out of the way of another couple that was bravely attempting a floor-covering foxtrot. Ranger looped her toward him and resumed dancing. 

In a velvet tone, the singer wrapped up the song with the final refrain, “ _And this will be our year, took a long time to come_.” And then the band started up another song, equally slow but with a different beat. Ranger, of course, effortlessly changed his steps to match, subtly guiding her with his hands on her arms. 

It was one of those seductive songs where, in high school, the nuns would have insisted on the dancers having straight arms to create space between the dancers. Here with Ranger, straight arms had been replaced with all the contact she could want. His hands pulled her tight and she remembered yet again how perfectly they fit together. She hummed, low and long, as his warmth enveloped her. His new aftershave entranced her, his thighs flexed against hers, and his hardness pressed against her stomach, igniting the heat of her very core. 

He inhaled sharply, muscles taut, and she had the suspicion she’d hummed her pleasure a bit more vigorously than she’d thought. 

Her guess was confirmed when he teased his left hand up her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps up her neck, and then to her cheek. “You know, I am a man of strong self control,” he murmured, his voice husky and dark. 

A shiver ran up her spine. “I’ve always known that.” 

“You do test it, though” he breathed warmly against her ear. 

“You’ve told me that I play with fire,” she replied. Peeking around to see that they were at the far, shadowed edge of the floor and relatively alone again, she decided to match action with words. With just a slight shift she was able to turn and lightly touch the edge of his ear with her tongue. 

And well, perhaps she shouldn’t have had that extra glass of wine during dessert to help finish the bottle. Because brushing her hands along his body to pull his hips against hers seemed like exactly the right thing to do at the moment. She took particular pleasure at the sound of his breathing, more like panting. Or was that perhaps a growl?

With a quick touch of lips against her hairline, Ranger gently separated them. As he caught her eyes with his own indulgent, intent gaze, his full lips were curved with amusement. “Babe, I may be an opportunist, but I’m also a strategist. That tells me that you probably don’t want us to be thrown out of the restaurant after I ravish you on the floor.” 

She puffed out her disappointment, though she wholeheartedly agreed with his conclusion. About the “being thrown out part,” at least. Also, as a pair of dancing teenagers passed near them doing some type of joyous shuffle dance move while holding their cellphones, she admitted she didn’t want to become a viral internet example of bad adult behavior at the very start of a new year. Tempting though it was, in a Grandma Mazur “do what you want, kiddo” sort of way. 

So she took another deep breath to steady herself and smiled. “You’re right,” she said, pouting. “Why are you always sensible? And right?” 

He urged them back into something resembling a dance step while saying, “I’m not sure if I’m being sensible, in this case.”

“You are,” she followed his steps, though she couldn’t help sashaying her hips. What was that song… hips don’t lie? After all, her entire body was feverish with the knowledge that she was inches away from the sexiest man in the room. A man who was looking at her with very _bedroom_ eyes. 

“Remember to thank me later for my exemplary dedication and selfless service,” he said in a deep, ironic tone. Then, he murmured so softly that she could barely hear him, “And here I thought it was difficult to leave your condo in time for our dinner reservations.” 

As he spoke, the band began a new song. Perhaps wanting to redirect the hanky panky on the dance floor— and Stephanie was pleased to note that they weren’t the only couple whose dancing had apparently gotten a bit, umm, _steamy_ — the band had switched to a more up-tempo song. “ _You know you make me wanna shout_ ,” the singer enthused while sketching out dance steps with the band. Younger diners hopped up to the floor while several of the older couples around Stephanie and Ranger began heading toward their tables. 

“Ranger,” she began. Then, smiling as she remembered her New Year’s present, she said, “Carlos, Let’s head back home.” 

He actually blinked as though trying to process her words. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay to watch the offshore fireworks at midnight?” 

“So sure,” she answered, her body already imagining an entirely different type of fireworks. She positively melted at the thought. 

“Works for me,” he replied with a smirk. In almost no time, they’d retrieved what they’d left at the table, Ranger had ensured that the check was paid with a hefty tip, and they’d hastened back to his parked Porsche. 

Focused as she was, the drive back from the restaurant took hardly any time. She emerged from his car, once again with her hand supported by his. This time, though, she tipped toward him until he was holding her up, which of course led to a kiss. Another delicious taste of him as her mouth moved against his and then nibbled along his lip, her tongue soothing immediately afterward. 

Though maybe it wasn’t as soothing as it was inciting, as she felt every inch of him hardening through their clothing. One large hand moved up to cradle her head, his fingers delving into her pinned-up hair and teasing the small tendrils against her neck. The other moved down slightly, pulling her hips toward his in that ancient, primal gesture of need. 

Then he turned to lean her against the car, pressing his body even closer to hers, his muscular bulk molded to her curves. His fingertips traced a line from her neck down to her neckline and cleavage. His other hand stroked broadly down her flank, awakening every nerve along her thigh and between her hips. As was only fair, her hands had traded roles with his, with one tangled in his hair and the other pulling his wonderfully toned backside against her, pinning herself even closer to his car. 

Their kissing, his increasingly harsh breathing, and her moans that were half swallowed by his lips were the only sounds in the quiet of the palm-ringed night. _Well no_ , Stephanie realized, frogs and crickets had resumed their night songs in the fringe of her condo’s parking lot, while muffled music and laughter sounded from one of the condos beyond. Muted conversation echoed from the other side of the lot. And the crunch of gravel from the street told of people driving home from a party, or perhaps from work. With one or two possibly headed to this very parking lot. 

She took a breath, tucking her forehead against his shoulder. They were in the clinches of desire while in public, yet again. She inhaled his delightfully masculine scent to borrow some of his noted self control— which okay, might have not helped at all but was so worthwhile, anyway— and then managed to speak his name. His special name, that he’d gifted to her.

“Carlos,” she took another breath, with its not-helpful but so very worthwhile infusion of his scent. “Um, we should probably take this ‘public display’ inside,” she murmured against the cloth of his suit jacket. His shoulders straightened with his inhale and, with that, she was almost unable to imagine anything beyond what that movement would be like skin to skin. 

“Good thinking, Babe,” he interrupted her thoughts while gently separating from her. He moved his fingers to the side of her face, lightly kissing the other side nearest his lips. “I’m glad of your awareness of your surroundings. Though if you change your mind about public display _outside_ , let me know and I’ll be more than happy to oblige. After all, this is my favorite car.” 

Pulling back to peer at him, her eyes rounded, she saw that the corner of his lips were lifted in genuine amusement. “You’re such a _guy_ ,” she shook her head.

“Twenty-four, seven. And at your service,” he said, eyes glinting like dark stars under the light from one of the lot’s lights. Probably aware of her visions of what that twenty-four-hour service might be like, he nudged her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go,” he said with a knowing smirk. 

He shepherded her along the shell-and-stone parking lot and then down the pavers that really shouldn’t have had those seams between them that tipped her heels. Then finally, thanks to Ranger’s dexterity with her keys and brand-new alarm controls, they made it through her front door, the tail ends of Cindy-Lou Who’s gift ribbon flying through the air as the door swung shut. 

“Welcome home again, Babe,” he half-whispered into her ear, his breath caressing almost as delightfully as his lips had done previously. 

“Mmm,” was all she could manage to say in reply as he pushed her gently against the closed door. His elbows bracketed her as his palms cradled her head for a kiss. While his knee slid between her legs, her own hands were busy reaching under his suit jacket and up to the backs of his broad, strong shoulders. “Mmm,” she repeated. Then, as his lips met her cheek, her ear, and then the tender skin of her neck, she heard herself murmur, “This is just like against your car, but warmer.”

His slow, rolling laughter filled the room. “Perhaps my romantic technique is somewhat repetitive,” he said with a kiss to her forehead. The amusement in his eyes was clear in the glow from the kitchen nightlight. 

“I wasn’t complaining,” she protested when he backed away, leaving her hands bereft as they slid out from under his jacket. He did, though, have a point. She distinctly remembered a number of other clinches with him while leaning against her apartment wall in Trenton, the bricks of the buildings in the Plum Bonds alley, and against the main door of his seventh floor apartment at Rangeman. She hadn’t complained then, either, but she couldn’t deny the pattern. 

While she pondered that, he had steered them past her small wall of unpacked boxes toward the bedroom. “Steph, I want to do this right,” he said, stopping them just inside the doorway. “So you know that being with you is important to me.” 

Tilting her head as though to see him better, she blinked. “I think I missed something,” she finally confessed.

He reached up, fingering her increasingly unruly hair away from her forehead and eyes. “We’ve made love before,” he began, brows drawn together in thought. “Maybe ‘friends with benefits’ but I’m not sure that’s the right phrase. Anyway, here, right now, we’ve spoken about trying something more serious between us. I want tonight to be part of that.” 

How could he be so rational in the throes of lust? As she saw the corner of his lips twitch, she suspected she’d said that aloud. But, for once, the words she needed to say were surprisingly easy. “If we each decide that tonight means more than before, then it does. For me, being here with you is special. I mean, I flew over a thousand miles to get here, with everything that matters to me in boxes, and Rex on the way. A big part of why I decided to do that is to be together with you.” 

She rested her hand on his shoulder. “And I think you’re saying that being together tonight is special to you, too. After all, there was all the wining and dining and dancing, earlier. And now there’s you. Right here. Telling me that I matter in between kisses.” She couldn’t help smiling. “You have no price; I have no doubts. So, Batman, what are we waiting for?” 

Once again, his easy laughter filled the room. “Good question,” he said as he pulled her close, taking a deep breath before meeting his lips with his. While they kissed, she helped him shrug out of his suit jacket and began to unbutton his shirt. 

“I’m good at questions,” she murmured as his hands stroked down her back, pulling open her dress zipper as he went. He ended with his palms straddling her rear, pulling her firmly against him as she butterflied her mouth along his neck. 

“You’re good at many things,” he replied while she was busy slipping his opened shirt as far as she could over his shoulders. 

“Mmm,” she replied while she slowly drew her hands downward along his undershirt, from his delightfully bulky shoulders, brushing against his male nipples, all the way down to his waistband. She delighted in his low groan as her fingers, having freed the front of his undershirt, began fluttering further along his skin. 

In a shrug, Ranger freed his arms from the constraints of his dress shirt, tossing it to the floor to land with his jacket. _That will wrinkle_ , Stephanie thought idly while she used that moment to push up his undershirt in a broad hint. He readily caught her meaning, and yet another male garment hit the floor. 

He then began freeing her from her dress. Mission accomplished, she stepped out of the dress with his help, and her panties as well. He then joined his fingers to hers where his skin met cloth along his waistband. A button undone, a zipper opened, and she was quick to palm the warm delight that sprung from the opening in his pants. They both moaned in tandem as he freed his legs and stepped fully nude into the moonlight sifting through the drapes. 

And, wow, when had he removed his shoes, since hers were still on? He was still the wizard. 

His slow chuckle brushed against her skin like the bubbles of warm champagne while he pulled her back to the bed. She landed half on top of him, giving herself extra points for not having lost the treasure in her hand. While she was busy, he traced his fingers in patterns across her skin, pausing at the swell of her breasts. With one hand remaining in place, the other resumed its exploration down to her waist, her hips, and finally sliding over to tease at the apex of her womanhood.

With a gasp, her head tilted back and she felt the warmth of his mouth as he began to tongue the tender skin that his traveling hand had recently left. Within only a few moments, it was as though those previously imagined bubbles of warm champagne had burst throughout her entire body and she arched with a wordless cry. 

“That’s it,” he murmured against her tingling skin. “Enjoy it.” 

And she did, wholeheartedly, until finally his fingers stilled and her breathing slowed to closer to normal levels. It took a while before she was able to resume using her hands more strategically. “My turn,” she finally murmured. _Mmm, what a fine man he was._

“Let me help,” he said, shifting and levering them both until she straddled him. 

In the distance, she heard cheers and the sound of fireworks from the hotel side of Key Biscayne. _The whole island is in favor of this_ , she thought while gazing at the handsome man beneath her, his eyes almost black with desire. She was over the moon at hearing him breathe as heavily as she still was.

He tilted his head slightly until those eyes locked with hers. With a passion-smoked, amused smile that rivaled his 100-watt daytime version, he said, “Happy New Year, Steph.” 

“Oh yeah,” Stephanie grinned. “I kinda forgot, with everything going on, and all.” She rolled her still quite satisfied hips against his, pleased at the resulting gasp and the lust-filled reaction on his face. Delighted that she could use his real name to complete the experience, she murmured, “Happy New Year, Carlos. It’s starting out really, really well.” 

She spared a moment to enjoy the caress of his hands along her hips while hers enjoyed the expanse of his chest and shoulders. Then she leaned down for a kiss. “Really well,” she repeated, hearing him rumble “It’s my pleasure” into her ear. 

“That’s my plan,” she giggled while nipping along the edge of his ear, and then returning to his mouth to renew her kiss. And while renewing other activities, as well. And again, after experiencing Ranger’s robust pleasure. And yet again while sharing their mutual pleasure. And again... well, it really was shaping up to be a very good new year.

Later— very much later— she was tucked next to his side, her arm around his waist while his fingers toyed through her freed, unruly hair. Sweat beaded along her skin, leaving a tingling coolness where it was beginning to dry in the nighttime air. The nearby New Year’s parties had ended hours ago and the only sound she heard, beyond the occasional froggy chirp from outside, was the rhythm of their breathing.

Lulled into a doze, half asleep, she realized that a new day was about to start. With the reality of being in Key Biscayne, not Trenton. With the reality that there were so many practical things she needed to do before getting swept into her new test-run job with Ranger’s sister. She found herself muttering, “I need to tell Dillon my address so he can forward my mail. I need to get cable.” As her brain caught up to her mouth, her eyes opened. “I need to get a car.” 

Feeling Ranger’s laughter rumbling beside her, she poked him in the shoulder. “And don’t you even get any ideas. mister, about how maybe Cindy-Lou Who drives a Porsche! But wait, I also need to….” 

He stopped her words with a lazy kiss against her lips. A kiss joined shortly by his tongue teasing along her lips. And with his hands, as they began to roam against her skin. Murmuring, he finally said, “Plenty of time to do all of that tomorrow. We’re starting a whole new year.” He kissed her again, slowly, thoroughly, deliciously. “Remember, I promised I’d help.” With his words buzzing against her skin, he added, “And how do you know Cindy-Lou Who doesn’t drive a Porsche?” 

And then he dispelled all thoughts of words from her mind as he turned toward her, reaching for her hip to pull her more firmly against him. Skin against luscious skin, he rocked his toward his ready firmness, and she was just as eager for him as though the evening had just begun. And, in fact, his touch was all that was needed to send her spinning yet again into the vastness of the waning night’s sky. Into the tomorrow that Ranger promised would be theirs together.

  
  


_To be continued…_

* * *

_Note:_ The song _This Will Be Our Year_ is an unexpectedly sweet tune by The Zombies. It’s not a holiday song, but it came on in the car when I was plotting this story and I’m happy I could sneak it in. Along with the snippets of other songs that made their way to the virtual dancefloor.


	13. Epilogue: Right Down the Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story disclaimers and background can be found at the start of Chapter 1.

**Epilogue: Right Down the Line**

“Look at them out there,” Julie exclaimed. “They’re fighting over the grill.” Still in her starfish-themed crown from her _Little Mermaid_ performance earlier in the afternoon, she stood motionless while gaping out the expansive kitchen window onto Ranger’s even more expansive backyard deck. 

Ariana snorted. “My brothers may be _muy macho_ in the real world, but Rafi and Carlos are such _boys_.” Her smirk was one that Stephanie recognized from Ranger’s face. 

With that, Stephanie had to peek out the window. And then, resting her spoon in the mixing bowl, she started to laugh. Ranger— a.k.a. Carlos— was standing with arms crossed in front of his built-in grill. With his own smirk, he was undaunted by his older brother Rafi whacking his shoulder with a spatula. Both were equally large men, with Ranger’s bulk being muscle while Rafi was a bit softer around the edges. 

“Men and grills,” Rafi’s wife Linda editorialized. With a sly look at Ariana, she snarked, “The only thing missing is your Uncle Ernesto.” 

“Oh please,” Ariana chuckled. “Once a year for the holidays is more than enough. We all grew up with the _locura_ in Abuelito’s backyard outside of Little Havana. Every cookout with Abuelito, Daddy, Tío Ernesto, and all the other uncles who were alive back then turned into the _Great Mañoso Grilling War_ ,” she finger quoted, and then snorted. “You know, I don’t think my brothers have ever gotten over the time when Tío Ernesto brought a live, two-hundred-something pound pig home when we were kids. Or the chickens living in his garage.” 

Probably seeing Julie’s eyes riveted toward her, Ariana said, “Not to worry; Even Tío Ernesto eventually grew up. These days, Tío has six adult kids who he visits during the year. I think right now he’s up with Cousin Sonia’s family in Atlanta for a month or two.” 

Linda shrugged. “Regardless, we might want to grill up a second batch of steaks in here. You know, in case the ones outside don’t make it through today’s episode of the _Great Mañoso Grilling War_.” 

Ariana burst into laughter as she turned again to look outside at brothers’ spirited disagreement next to the grill. 

Stephanie grinned at the image of Ranger in the camouflage-patterned chef’s apron she’d bought him after spotting a similar one at an estate while on the job for Ariana. It was definitely a step above the black “Chillin’ and Grillin’” apron that his brother Rafi was wearing. 

She was sure she wasn’t being biased, but who could blame her if she was?

“Look at them pretending not to shove each other out of the way,” Ariana said, pointing out the window. 

“Are they always like this?” Stephanie asked.

“Maybe when we were kids,” Ariana turned toward her. “But, as adults, this is new.” 

“Rafi says being around both of you has really brought his younger brother out of his shell,” Linda interjected, gesturing vaguely toward Julie and Stephanie with her spoon. Her gaze drifted back to the window as she added, “Right now, though, I think maybe they’re just bonding.”

“Well, whatever it is, it’s dumb,” Julie announced, tossing a towel down on the counter. “And it doesn’t get us dinner,” she added while stalking to the door. With as much of a slam as Ranger’s expensive, insulated doors allowed, she propelled herself outside toward the grill. Her long, dark hair streamed from under her starfish crown. From beyond the kitchen’s sound-proofed glass, her arms flew open to orchestrate her words. 

As one, Ranger and Rafi both stopped what they’d been doing and turned toward her. Knowing Ranger by now, Stephanie could tell he was astonished and proud at the same time. Rafi’s more expressive face reflected a similar awe. The two men towered over her like knights in barbecue armor absorbing their diminutive lady’s instructions. 

“She really is Carlito’s daughter,” Ariana said with a knowing smile. 

“No kidding,” Stephanie concurred. It had been obvious the first time she’d met the slim, headstrong girl. She sometimes imagined that, through Julie, she got to see a bit of who Ranger had been when he was a teen. Imagining Julie’s spirit in a boy, she’d concluded that it was no wonder he’d managed to get into trouble in his youth. 

She smiled as he brushed back a lock of hair that had escaped its plastic crown to its proper place behind his daughter’s ear. 

“No wonder she’s the Little Mermaid’s bravest sister,” Linda noted, referring to Julie’s role in her school’s production of _The Little Mermaid_. 

“Oh my gosh, she was totally amazeballs today.” Ariana praised her niece who was still tête-a-tête with her uncles by the grill. 

“I’m glad she got us tickets to the final matinee,” Linda said. “The kids were all relaxed and actually having fun on stage. It made it a lot more fun for us to watch, too.” 

“I loved her little swimmy-swimmy dance,” Ariana said, swaying with graceful Salsa dance moves in imitation of the musical number her niece had led on stage. “And she can sing, too. She’s so talented,” she added as she rounded up the tomatoes that Julie had been about to dice for the tossed salad. 

“She really is an amazing kid,” Stephanie agreed, taking her pan of brownies to the double oven. She’d made Jello Ambrosia last night for the health-conscious crowd, but everyone knew that real dessert needed something more robust. She had considered introducing Ranger’s family to the ultimate non-Cuban dessert, which was obviously pineapple upside down cake, except she’d found out that Julie loved brownies. 

So, brownies were on the way, with real, sweetened whipped cream ready to go in the fridge. At which point she remembered Ranger’s request to save some of that whipped cream for later, after everyone left. “Whew, it’s toasty over by the oven,” she mumbled as a blush blossomed across her face. 

For effect, she lingered to peek in the top oven at Ariana’s Cuban sweet cornbread, which Stephanie had been delighted to discover included the bits of the pineapple that they weren’t having for dessert. It was just more proof that great ideas— like pairing pineapple and sugar with cakes and bread— were universal. 

She inhaled deeply. “Mmm, your cornbread smells yummy,” she turned toward Ranger’s sister.

“It’s our Abuela Arguello’s recipe. Our mother’s mamí,” Ariana explained. Grinning with a hint of mischief, she winked. “And, my brothers both love it. I’ll give you the recipe, along with the potato and egg salad.” 

“Mmm,” Stephanie hummed in appreciation, having sampled Ariana’s potato salad when they’d stopped for lunch at the other woman’s apartment a few weeks ago between estate management clients. 

“Sis-in-law, here, tells no lie,” Linda piped up. “Rafi could maybe live on those two dishes alone. I bet Carlos is the same.”

Having seen him actually enjoying food since she’d moved down, Stephanie stifled her immediate response that Ranger only ate twigs and berries. Instead, she smiled at Ranger’s sister. “New recipes? Bring ‘em, girlfriend.” 

“You got it, chica” Ariana replied. Then she continued with a provocative tilt to her head, “You know, if you moved in here with Carlos, you’d have this huge kitchen to play in, every day. Think of the recipes I could share with you, then.” 

Stephanie paused while pulling out a tray to start ferrying cutlery, napkins, and condiments outside for dinner. “We’ve actually talked a little bit about moving in together,” she admitted as she resumed work. “But don’t get excited: we’re still in the stage where we mostly talk about ‘wouldn’t it be nice to have our clothes all in one place’ rather than about long-term commitment.” 

While she spoke, her eyes traveled unconsciously toward the patio, where Ranger was now helping his eager daughter to don a pair of his high-tech grilling mitts. To the side, his older brother Rafi’s expression was indulgent as he held out the spatula for her to grab. It was during quiet, sweet moments like this that she felt almost ready for talking about commitment. Being with Joe had never felt complete and satisfying in this way.

Blinking, she realized Linda and Ariana were still gushing over Ranger’s extra-large, modern kitchen, and about the rest of his house by extension. She shrugged. “This place is really nice,” she agreed. “I’m just not used to living in someplace so big.”

“I get that,” Ariana said with a sympathetic nod. “It’s almost like some of the places we manage, huh?” 

“Almost,” Stephanie agreed, while visions of mansions and family compounds she’d visited over the past several weeks staged a mental slideshow in her head. They were big— and no lie, they were a lot of fun to visit— but none of them felt like a _home._ At least not to someone raised in a mid-century, side-by-side house in the ’Burg. 

She glanced around, taking in the kitchen as well as the rooms she could see through the doorways. Then her gaze pivoted to the patio outside. Ranger’s home here on North Beach wasn’t quite as expansive as the places she and Ariana visited, though it did still feel like being at a resort. It just felt _large_. At the same time, she knew her sweet little condo on Key Biscayne was too small for both of them to call home for any length of time. 

Blinking in surprise, she exclaimed, “I’m having a Goldilocks moment.” 

“You’re waiting for a family of bears to come home?” Linda squinted while giving a final stir to her three-bean salad. “If so, you have two good bear stand-ins just outside. Maybe a full set of three if we include Julie. Which I think we probably should,” she added while darting her eyes to the patio, where Ranger’s daughter was now apparently lecturing both men with a stern flick of the grill spatula. 

Stephanie burst into laughter. “No kidding,” she said. “That girl is fearless.” She turned toward both women in the kitchen, both of whom were starting to feel like family. “What I meant was that my place is too small, but here in Carlos’ place I still feel a guest at a resort.” 

“Give it time,” Ariana came over and put her arm over Stephanie’s shoulder. “At least you don’t need a map, like we do to manage the Royce-Esteban compound out on Star Island.” Ranger’s sister gave her a quick squeeze. “Seriously, though. Give it time. Carlito loves this place since it’s right on the channel out to the bay, with a boat slip. And it has the pool and his _muy grande_ patio for grilling. Oh, and the built-in gym,” she added, eyebrows waggling. 

“Jeez, how could I forget the gym?” Stephanie rolled her eyes at how Ranger kept trying to get her to use his exercise equipment. One of these days he’d discover that her whole interest in going to the gym had always been to watch him in one of his sweaty workouts. Nibbling her lip, she admitted that he probably already knew that. 

And there was that blush rising on her face again while she tried to keep from squirming. She spotted Ariana’s observant, sideways glance her way just as the door to the patio opened with a pressurized swoosh. 

“It’s safe to come outside, ladies,” Ranger strode into the kitchen. The muted sounds of Julie and Rafi chatting outside mingled with the music on the outside speakers. Stephanie had been surprised by the classic soft rock music selection until he’d explained that, oddly, Julie liked it. Or, more accurately, it was his daughter’s second favorite after the pop station that Ranger couldn’t abide for even a single song. 

So, classic soft rock it was, with a slate of tunes that Stephanie knew by heart. Without realizing it, she began to sing along to “Can’t fight this feeling,” under her breath in counterpoint to her stomach’s gurgling appreciation of the mouth-watering scents wafting from the grill. 

“So _hermano_ ,” Ariana spoke up. “Who won the battle over the best way to grill?” She gave Stephanie a quick hug before stepping away. 

“It’s a draw. Apparently Rafi and I both had serious issues with our technique. Fortunately we got help in discovering the error of our ways,” he replied with eyes crinkling in amusement. 

“Family,” his sister affirmed while elbowing him on her way to the oven. “We’re here for you.” With mitts on, she pulled out her tray of cornbread and then checked the timer for the brownies. “Five more minutes,” she called out with a quick glance at Stephanie. “Are you sure that’s right?”

“It’s a Plum family recipe, designed and tested repeatedly by people who refuse to wait for dessert.” She felt Ranger’s breath of amusement flutter her hair as he wrapped his arm around her waist. Meanwhile, sensing Stephanie’s distraction, Linda pulled over the tray Stephanie had been assembling, taking over for her. 

“Doing okay, Babe?” Ranger murmured into her ear. “I didn’t mean to be outside for quite so long,” he added, his lip tipped in amusement.

She leaned into him with a quick shoulder bump. “It’s a family backyard picnic with bickering over the grill. I’ve trained extensively for this event my whole life.” 

Ranger’s quiet laugh drew Ariana’s quick glance, followed by her satisfied, Cheshire-cat smile. She discreetly turned and began cutting her cornbread. 

“I knew you were a pro, Steph,” Ranger replied with a tug on one of her curls. He then let her go and carefully took the now laden tray from Linda. “I’ve got this,” he said, “but I might need help putting everything in the right place.” She could see the teasing gleam in his eyes as he no-doubt recalled her squeal the other evening when he’d simply dumped out a box of mixed plastic cutlery on the outdoor table saying something about thumb wrestling for the sole plastic knife. Of course, he’d done it to amuse her after an earlier discussion of how unnaturally focused both of their mothers were on setting the table “just right.” 

“Just a moment, and I’ll come save the day for civilized place settings everywhere,” Stephanie joked. 

With a low chuckle, Ranger headed back outside. Meanwhile, Stephanie joined Linda and Ariana at the main kitchen counter to arrange the bowls and platters that still needed to go outside. In a parade that swept up Rafi and Julie as well— and with an important detour to pull the brownies from the oven to cool— the food was outside in short order. 

In fact, it seemed as though only seconds had passed until they were all assembled outside around Ranger’s spacious teak table. Platters and bowls made their way from person to person with enthusiasm, and yet with less serving mayhem than Stephanie expected. It was clear that the whole Mañoso family was efficient at dining. _Huh, it’s not just a Ranger thing_ , she mused while plucking one of the still toasty pieces of cornbread from the basket that had made its way to her. 

Chatter diminished into the sounds of eating. And yes, with some amount of moaning on Stephanie’s part, though happily she was joined by a chorus of half-murmured phrases like “This is good!” and “Qué bueno!” Music continued to play softly in the background, a lazy breeze teased a windchime hung in one of the trees, and an occasional motorboat chugged down the channel on its way to the bay.

Their dining communion was finally interrupted by a particularly exuberant plash from the moving pool cleaner. 

As everyone except Ranger looked toward the pool, Julie spoke up. “Papa Carlos, you should get the kind of cleaning vacuum that has the cartoon shark’s head at the end,” she opined with the authority conveyed by her _Little Mermaid_ crown.

“Carlito, you really should,” Ariana agreed while waving her empty fork, “Then when it springs out of the pool, like that, we could all do the _Jaws ‘_ duh duh duh duh’ song.”

“I’ll be sure to look into that,” Ranger answered in a dry tone while his expression clearly telegraphed _hell no._

“Honey, could we get a shark’s head for our pool cleaner?” Linda gently elbowed her husband. 

“I’ll be sure to look into that,” Rafi echoed his younger brother’s tone almost exactly although his eyes sparkled with mirth. 

As laughter ringed the table, Ariana leaned forward from the other side of the table. “Hey Stephie,” she said. “Whatever happened with the Betancourt’s pool yesterday?” Then, in tandem, they both quoted yesterday morning’s panicked phonecall. “Someone stole all my water!” They both dissolved into giggles as everyone else at the table looked their way. 

“Someone stole the water out of a swimming pool?” Julie squinted at Stephanie from the other side of her father. 

Seeing the almost identical tilt of eyebrows on Julie, Ranger, and Rafi, Stephanie’s amusement burgeoned again into full-out peals of laughter. 

Ariana picked up the slack, providing a bit of background. “ _Rayos!_ That family is crazycakes to begin with. We worked with them to get their nasty pool and backyard cleaned up and perfect for a reception early next week. Everything was set, the pool was full and its chemicals were all balanced. And then… we got the call.” She glanced at Stephanie, who by then was able to pick up her part of the tale.

“I went over there, and the whole flipping swimming pool really was completely empty. So, we got the pool management guy out, yet again, for an emergency call. He crawled around and used all kinds of high-tech gadgets to find cracks or plumbing leaks. No luck, so I was about to go rogue and look for clues, like maybe elephant tracks in case a giant critter had splashed all the water out. But, right then I realized that one of the Betancourt sons had played with the pool controls and just drained the whole darned thing. After he realized what he’d done, he snuck out and fixed the knobs so nobody would know.”

“How did you figure that out, Babe?” Ranger’s gaze showed the combination of enjoyment and pride she’d finally realized was his form of admiration. Unlike Joe’s frequently resigned or half-disbelieving gaze, this expression meant that her best friend, her lover, actually wanted to know the answer. 

She basked in triumph. “I spotted a blue candy wrapper inside the door of the storage cabana where the controls are hidden. I remembered the kid had been popping some Japanese candy from little blue bags the other day when we arranged to get the greenhouse controls fixed.” She shrugged. “Of course, the knucklehead tried to deny it, but then I threatened to tell his folks about the contraband… umm... teenaged boy _stuff_ he stashes under the old pool cushions in that cabana.” 

A chorus of knowing amusement about what constituted contraband teenaged boy “stuff” arose while she asserted, “Young Mr. Betancourt and I have an understanding.” With a grin, she added, “And, their pool will finish filling and get all its chemicals just in time for their family’s event.”

“Okay, since I’m not five years old, I know you’re talking about, like, girlie magazines and funny cigarettes,” Julie piped up from the other side of a frowning and suddenly very focused Ranger. “But, is that the same place where they have the plastic tubes for their hamsters running throughout the house?” 

“Princess Andrina,” Stephanie addressed Julie using the name of her role in today’s matinee. “Surely you know I was talking about the young man’s Wolverine comic books and his unmanly stash of Star Wars Legos.”

“Um, yeah. Of course,” the girl nodded with an excess of enthusiastic obedience. 

Stephanie smiled, her eyes twinkling as she spotted Ranger’s brows furrowing together in suspicion. With a prim nod, she said, “Now that we’re clear on that, I can tell you that _Chez_ HabiTrail is a different house and a different family. I totally want to take Rex there for a playdate next time we have to get the thing cleaned. Which, believe me, is a big event.” 

She shook her head. “I don’t know who rigged the clear plastic tubes to run through the family room and their mini movie theater, but at least it’s angled so you don’t see too much hamster poop in visible areas. You do, though, have to take it apart to get it clean. And then run some ozone cleaners in the rooms to get rid of the delightful _eau du_ rodent.”

“Stephie, I’m so glad you moved down here in time to deal with that one,” Ariana said with a slight grimace. “I don’t think I’d ever have thought to find a cleaning service at the zoo.”

“You would’ve as soon as you remembered your Trenton roots,” Stephanie replied. “Seriously, it’s like you told me the first day, that being from New Jersey is the best qualification for this job. I just thought about all the ooky places with animals that my folks dragged me to as a kid, and came up with ‘county fair’ and ‘zoo’. I figured a zoo would have funky habitats for critters and... _Bingo_. There’s a nice couple that cleans the small mammal enclosures and the reptile house for the big zoo down south. They love this gig.”

She felt Ranger’s amusement telegraphed through his arm, which he’d rested across the top of her chair. His fingers lightly brushed her far shoulder and then tangled gently in her hair.

“You have people from the zoo clean a house?” Linda’s voice wavered between amusement and a vague horror, probably stemming from the image of zookeepers cleaning her notably immaculate kitchen. 

“Just their multi-room hamster-adventure whoosit,” Ariana volunteered. “Seriously, we’d gone through three cleaning services by that point.” She turned to Stephanie. “Remind me on Monday: I want to find out if the zoo couple have any tips for someone who can help with our new client who has a flock of peacocks along with a family of sloths, because of course they do. Permits in place, and all.”

“Still better than the Chevaliers who didn’t tell me about their grown-up, potbellied pigs rooting through the back orchard,” Stephanie countered while leaning back. “Those things get big when they grow up. And they run faster than you’d think.” 

“Just remember, Babe. Let me know if I need to shoot someone.”

Stephanie snorted, soft-slapping Ranger’s arm. 

“Carlito,” Ariana rebuked from across the table. “You’re not shooting any of our paying clients. With an amused twist of her lips, she added, “We could talk, maybe, about the ones who pay really, really slow.” 

Ranger smiled speculatively as everyone else laughed. 

As they spoke, Stephanie began passing around the various dessert options. She made sure, of course, to take good helpings of everything for herself to set a good example. Well, okay, maybe she took only a small serving of the jello salad, but she was careful to balance the space on her plate by taking more of the brownies and whipped cream. 

She studiously avoided Ranger’s gaze after hearing him murmur “Remember I asked to save some of that for later, Babe.” She had the strong impression, though, that Ariana had picked up on his comment and that she’d be teasing her about it on Monday. Well, the best way to counter that, as everyone knew, was to have more dessert. She wasted no time in setting that particular plan in action. 

After another period of focused eating, with obligatory sounds of enjoyment, both her meal stomach and her dessert stomach were full. Well, actually, the basket of brownies was finally empty because Ranger’s family totally didn’t adhere to the fabled My Body is a Temple diet. 

Dessert led to stories of a recent family dinner at Rafi and Linda’s involving their toddler Richie’s antics after triple-dipping into the cookies behind everyone’s back. And that had led to stories of their own childhood sugar-rush escapades. Unsurprisingly, there apparently weren’t many such stories of Ranger as a child. She was pleased, though, to spot Ranger’s deflection when a story about him in his favorite Halloween pirate outfit came up. That was something she definitely planned to follow up sometime later. 

As conversation finally lulled, she swatted away a sandfly that had gotten beyond the high-tech, bug-zapping gadgets arranged around the patio. Shoving back from the table, she started collecting plates to take back to the kitchen. As she stood, she felt Ranger begin to rise. 

“It’s okay,” she put her hand on his shoulder. “Stay with your family. I’ll do this.” 

“We’re your family too,” Rafi insisted while also standing from his position between Ariana and his wife on the other side of the table. “You ladies were kind enough to do the majority of the cooking while we were busy Neanderthalling outside, so it’s our turn to help.” 

“Besides,” Ranger shrugged as he gently relieved Stephanie of her dirty plates. “If we didn’t help with cleanup, our Abuelita Mañoso would find a way to fly down from Newark tonight just to whack us both upside the head.” 

“ _Cierto_ ,” Ariana snorted. “You know that’s true.” 

“Every day I love that woman more,” Linda said while gazing sweetly up at her husband. 

“That’s because she never walloped you with her metal ladle,” her husband replied, eyebrow arched. “Or made you grind corn in her cast iron table mill because, and I quote, real Cubans don’t use blenders.” 

Speaking in Spanish, Ariana echoed him at the end, pitching her voice high in her throat in a way that Stephanie assumed mimicked their grandmother. Her assumption was confirmed when even Ranger added his baritone chuckle to Rafi’s more boisterous laugh. 

“Does Abuela Mañoso still do that?” Julie’s eyes were round. “Because if she does, I think I’ll stay out of the kitchen next time she’s around.” 

“Ah, it builds character, _m’ija_ ,” Ariana winked at her niece across the table. “Think how boring we might all be, otherwise.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Rafi called out from the sliding door, where he and Ranger were standing with arms full of empty plates and a tray of tumblers.

At the same time, Julie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well I’m okay being boring.” 

“Too late for that, kiddo” Stephanie reached across Ranger’s empty chair and rested her hand on the girl’s slim shoulder. “You’ll never be boring. But the fact that you’re _you_ is why you’re special.” 

“Hmm,” Julie looked down, her long dark hair draping her face as though hiding a blush. Stephanie released her shoulder to brush her fingers through the strands obscuring the girl’s cheek. More quietly, she said, “It’s okay. You’re fine just as you are. Brave, shy, singing on stage as a mermaid princess... it’s all good.”

For a moment she could see Julie nibbling her lip in thought. Then she straightened her shoulders, her hair righting itself under her plastic crown as she sat back up. Turning to Stephanie, her mouth twitched into a smile. “Okay.” 

Meanwhile, it was apparent that Linda and Ariana had continued talking when Linda commented, “Thank heavens my sister was free to babysit today. Hey Jules, too bad you don’t live in the neighborhood, we’d hire you in an instant.” Without waiting for a reply, she added, “I love my babies more than anything. But I can’t even remember how long it’s been to have an entire day without toddler chats about crayons or dinosaurs or baby spit.” 

“We should do this more often,” Ariana replied. “You know, now that Stephie’s here, we could have a regular Ladies Night Out.” 

“That would be awesome,” Stephanie concurred. 

Linda leaned forward, “I wonder if Carlos would want to have a Guys Night with Rafi.”

“Letting those two out on the world together could be trouble with a capital ‘T’,” Ariana warned. 

“They’re big boys now,” Linda waved away her sister-in-law’s concern. “I think spending more time with Carlos would make Rafi happy. I get the impression he regrets being distant from Carlos when they were kids. There was enough of an age difference that they really never spent much time together until this past year.” 

“It’s true, they’ve both really changed,” Ariana mused. “Rafi was always the big kid at the adults table for the holidays. He was Mr. Cool and we were the rugrats.” She sniffed with an abbreviated eye roll. “At home, Carlito was so quiet you could almost forget he was there. But he got into trouble at school a lot, and it was always a _montón de problemas_. A total big deal. And Rafi was far away and hard to find.”

In her periphery, she saw Julie’s speculative expression. Squinting as she reviewed what was being said, Stephanie decided that knowing some of these dynamics in her long-estranged family couldn’t hurt. So, she simply volunteered her own experience. “I can imagine that. And I know that things between my older sister and me are a lot better now that we’re adults. We can have extended conversations without hair pulling.” 

“Exactly,” Linda agreed. “Do you think Carlos would want that? The brothers seem to get along, now.”

“I could ask him,” Stephanie said. 

Ariana tilted her head in thought. “You know, Stephie, I think you should. It’s not just Rafi who’s different. Carlos also changed a lot, especially in the past year. It’s lot of little things.” She lifted her hands as though trying to shape her thoughts between them. “I mean, he hasn’t bailed out for a phonecall or a meeting during any of the times we’ve gotten together since he’s been down here.” 

As Stephanie snickered in recognition, Ariana elaborated, “Seriously, he used to do that whenever family got together. It was a running bet how long he’d stay because we’d be lucky to see him for a half hour. Even luckier if he said anything. Now, while I’m not saying he’s a chatterbox now, he’s just _here_ with us. I never used to feel he was.”

Stephanie nodded. “I know. I see it too.” Without revealing too much about his personal “work in progress,” she explained, “Being more focused on family is something Carlos vowed to do as part of moving here. Since he was determined to spend time with Julie, he had to change his priorities. Change his lifestyle.”

She looked at Ranger’s slim, lively princess of a daughter as she spoke and watched as the girl’s eyes widened at her words. Her youthful, full lips opened into the “oh” that her mind was likely thinking. 

She reached over to squeeze Julie’s hand where it rested on the table. “It was a choice your father was happy to make, and I’ve never seen him so _free_ before.” Releasing the girl's slim hand, she added, “Just being _you_ helped make that difference in your father, Sweetie. And it’s such a good thing.” 

“He’s changed because of you too, Stephie,” Linda nodded sagely. “I watched Carlos’ eyes follow both of you when you were over for _Nochebuena_ with the family. He was a thirsty man who’d found his oasis.” 

Ariana agreed. “Linda saw what I saw, _mis queridas_. You really are Carlito’s family in his eyes. In addition to being part of our whole crazy Mañoso clan.” Her voice lowered dramatically, breaking the serious moment. “You can’t escape us, bwa ha ha.” 

Julie giggled, with Linda and Stephanie following not far behind. 

And that was how Ranger and Rafi found them as they returned to the patio with a set of fresh glasses and a large pitcher of lemonade. She watched as Ranger’s eyes homed immediately on where she and Julie were seated, just as Linda had claimed. His expression relaxed as his gaze brightened. A goofy grin took over her face at seeing him so happy. She could see his lips telegraph both pleasure and pride. 

His relatives were right: he truly had changed in just the past few months. Of course, he did still sometimes get calls for which he needed to drop everything. It was part of owning a business as well as part of having his specific Army Rangers experience. The difference was that he now confided details he wouldn’t have before, knowing that she’d keep them secret. And, she’d do it without question. 

As the men resumed their places at the table, she began pouring lemonade for everyone at the table. She then passed two filled glasses to Ranger, using her chin to point toward Julie on his other side. 

“Here you go, _Cariña_ ,” he said, passing one of the drinks to his daughter. As she inspected her glass, holding it up to the light with brows crinkled, he explained, “It’s lemonade with melon and honey. It’s something they made back in Cuba. Our family often has it instead of rum or coffee after family dinners.” 

“So _mucho mejor_ than Cuban coffee after dinner. Much better,” she repeated. “Cuban coffee is like espresso and keeps you awake and wired all night and into the morning. Who knows why they thought that was sensible.”

“Or rum. Such a bad idea.” Rafi concurred, shaking his head. Then, with a quick glance at Julie, as though remembering that there was a youngster present, he paused before adding, “Let’s just say Julie didn’t get her singing talent from the Mañosos, none of whom can carry a tune, but that never stopped them from hours of singing old Celia Cruz ballads.” 

Ranger’s lips quirked in amusement, while Ariana laughed out loud. Meanwhile Julie peered at Stephanie from Ranger’s other side to ask, “Is your family goofy, too? Because now I know that both of mine are.” 

“Absolutely,” Stephanie affirmed, ignoring what sounded like a snort from Ranger. “I’ve decided that the whole point of having a family is that they embarrass you so much that you get over it well before adulthood. And you get great stories to tell as ice-breakers, so you’re never boring at parties.”

“I’m doomed,” Ranger’s daughter said with a palm raised theatrically to her forehead. At which point she apparently realized that not only was she doomed but she was still wearing a starfish crown. Rolling her eyes, she pulled it off and placed it on the table. 

“No way. You’re not doomed,” Ariana pronounced. “You’re destined for the stage. When you’re famous, you’ll thank us for all the ‘cray-cray’ material you can draw from.”

“Just don’t forget us ‘little people’ when you’re famous,” Linda added. 

Once again, quiet laughter again ringed the table. Stephanie relaxed, sipping her melon lemonade, while after-dinner family conversation continued. Ranger’s arm, once again along her shoulders, felt perfectly natural, even though his habit of casual comfort with her was still so new. It was a level of affection and acceptance she’d never quite felt in Trenton, not even in moments of physical intimacy. 

Sighing contentedly, she leaned toward him over their armrests until her shoulder was nestled against him and her hand rested on his knee. As he tightened his arm, she saw the peaceful tilt of his lips and the spark in his eyes as he slanted a private gaze down at her. It wasn’t quite a kiss, but she nevertheless felt the caress of his cheek briefly against her forehead. Warmed to her core, she smiled at how good he was getting at his “still in progress” lifestyle. 

Before long, the sun had begun to set and the outdoor air became brisk. They’d gone inside for another hour-or-so of companionable talk. Julie persuaded Stephanie and Ariana into placing a racing video game that, Stephanie noted with amusement, the slim girl managed to win each time. 

Eventually, though, Rafi and Linda had needed to leave. Shortly afterward, Ariana had also departed, her lively brown eyes wide with mischief as she faked a couple of huge yawns. 

Unaware of Ariana’s ruse, Julie echoed her aunt’s yawns after she left. Despite that, she willingly rallied to help Stephanie and her father finish cleaning up from the evening. Before long, the family room was straightened. The kitchen, also, bore few reminders of the afternoon’s meal, other than the starfish crown settled jauntily on the bowl of fruit that Ranger kept on the main counter. 

Julie stifled another yawn, though this time she obviously was a bit tired. “I guess it really is time for bed, huh?” 

“You can only put it off for so long,” Stephanie agreed. “Might as well give into the urge.” 

“Okay,” she nodded. Then, nibbling slightly at her lip, she turned to her father. “Will you come up in about five minutes?” 

“Of course Jules,” Ranger replied in a low, gentle voice, knowing that this childish gesture had become very important to his daughter after she’d been abducted. “I’ll always check in and make sure you’re safe. Get ready and I’ll be there soon.” 

“Okay,” she agreed again, and then turned to head up the stairs. 

Stephanie went over and put her arm around his waist. “She’ll get over that fear, someday.”

“If she needs me to tuck her in for the rest of her life, I’ll do it.” 

“I know you will,” she agreed. “Though someday she’ll get married and her husband might want to work things out a bit differently.”

“If he’s someone who keeps her safe, I’ll pass the baton to him.” He shrugged, putting his own arm around her. “If not, he won’t even have a chance.” 

“Her dates are going to have to pass through some serious screening, aren’t they?” She chuckled quietly.

His lips pursed in silent, amused confirmation. 

They stood together for a few moments while Stephanie was content to simply be with Ranger at the end of the day. After a while, though, his internal chronometer told him it was time to check with Julie. 

After he’d followed his daughter upstairs to say goodnight, Stephanie shrugged on a sweater and stepped outside. The door from the family room led to a short-railed balcony that opened, after a couple of steps, to the main patio. She stood at the railing, hands resting loosely along its smoothed wooden top. They’d forgotten to turn off the stereo when they went inside, so she began humming along to the song. 

The swimming pool’s cleaner, with its very sensible, non-shark-headed vacuum continued its quiet plashing. In low counterpoint, the minor tide from the bay lapped water against boat moorings along the channel’s shore. A distant sound of laughter from a house further down the channel gave a comforting reminder that she wasn’t alone in the evening. 

Looking up, she gazed at the velvet sky that was beginning to become peppered with stars. While her eyes imagined patterns in the prickling light, she mouthed “star light, star bright” as she had done since childhood. Then the door swooshed open behind her. A spattering of tingles along her back and neck reminded her that she already had her wish for tonight. 

Ranger stopped just behind her, and then rested his palms along her shoulders. His fingers began kneading along her muscles. “Mmm,” she murmured as she leaned back into his large, warm hands. “You always know just what I need,” she said with a quiet smile.

“I do my best,” he rumbled, his thumbs pressing firmly into the muscles that so often got knotted along the top of her back. 

“I think tonight went really well.” Her lips relaxed into a quiet smile. “Julie’s gotten so much more comfortable when she stays over.” She remembered the first couple of times when Julie had been on best behavior, Ranger had been awkward, and the evenings had seemed like events to complete with a hidden checklist to follow. Tonight, like the last few weekends with the girl, had become natural. 

She wasn’t sure if it was a coincidence. But, at the very moment she had that thought, he murmured, “It’s you, Babe,” into her hair. At the same time, the song on the stereo repeated the refrain, “It's been you, woman, right down the line.” 

His strong hands changed position to focus on the column of muscles along her upper spine. ‘Mmm, Carlos,” she began, her voice thickened by the downward, relaxed angle of her head. “What do you mean ‘it’s me’?” 

He continued massaging her back while the music played in the background. Finally he said, “You’re comfortable with each other, you and Julie. When I don’t know what to say, you do.” His shrug telegraphed through his hands. “It helps us all be at ease.” 

“I’m glad,” she replied, slowly straightening to lean fully back against his chest. His massaging hands, relocated due to her movement, moved to her waist as he wrapped her in his arms. His masculine scent blended with his aftershave to envelop her in a perfect cloud of Ranger. 

Enjoying the moment, she gazed at the patio’s night lights and the rising moon reflected in the pool. 

“Mmm,” she exhaled. “Maybe I could get used to living here at your place,” she murmured. “Though I’d miss my neighbors, especially Larissa and her Bingo nights.” 

“It’s not a far drive. You could still go to Bingo nights. Though I’d come get you or arrange for a pick-up when it’s Bingo with shots.” 

She giggled as he continued speaking. “No need to decide right now, Babe. Especially not until after your grandmother visits. She’s _definitely_ staying at your place, not mine.” 

Stephanie burst into full-out laughter, feeling Ranger’s lips soft against the top of her head. 

“Now, to focus on what’s important. I presume you saved some of that whipped cream.” His breath sparked gently against her ear.

And once again, as aching tendrils of desire ignited their way through her body, she wondered how she had _ever_ resisted this man. 

“I did,” she whispered, turning within the sheath of his arms. Then, surrendering herself to his strong embrace, she sighed. “But Julie’s here. So, probably not tonight.” 

“Her room’s at the far end of the hall,” he speculated, but then conceded, “But you’re right. Maybe tomorrow.” He paused a beat, then added, “Tonight we can go upstairs to check out my collection of Wolverine comics and very manly Legos.” 

Unable to stifle her giggle, she was pleased to feel Ranger’s laughter rumbling along with her. 

“So that’s a yes?” he asked. 

“Very much so,” she exhaled her agreement as his lips met hers in a warm, shameless invitation to go upstairs. Lost in his kiss, in his arms, she was barely aware of the outdoor speakers as they finished the song, gently claiming, “I had no doubt, and it’s been you, woman. Right down the line.” 

_-The End-_

* * *

_And they lived happily ever after…._  
  
In this story— as in life— Christmas is over, the New Year has brought its own changes, and time moves on. Though the previous chapter was the planned end of this story, several readers wanted to see something of what her Miami future will be like, leading to this epilogue. There may someday be a sequel to this little romance. But for now, please let your imagination roam in Stephanie’s happy world where all is merry and bright and Ranger is dedicated to keeping it that way.

The songs mentioned in this post-holiday chapter seemed to echo Stephanie’s and Ranger’s progress to where they are on this day. _Can’t Fight This Feeling_ by REO Speedwagon is about strong attraction that hasn’t quite found expression. _Right Down the Line_ by Gerry Rafferty seems to almost speak what I imagine Ranger might be feeling in this chapter. It’s such a subtle but powerful song.

In closing, I dedicate this little story to my husband. A jazz musician, among other things, he began playing one of my favorite holiday songs— _Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas—_ in mid-November last year while the days grew long and holiday lights blossomed on houses and trees. Stephanie beckoned, the warmth of the holiday season filled the air, and this story was born. 


End file.
